The Only Thing He Ever Wanted
by Henry Baxendale
Summary: What if Harry left the Dursleys a month before his ninth birthday? Join Harry during his Hogwarts years in this AU adventure. Canon will be the basis, but I'll twist it to my own liking. Rating is M for safety.
1. A New Life

The One Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 1 – A New Life

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Disclaimer:

I don't own anything.

* * *

Dreams can be quite a mystery. Some believe them to be prophetic visions, a signaling of events yet to unfold. Yet others perceive them to be the chaotic ramblings of the mind whilst the body is at rest.

In the ordinary household of No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, there lived a normal, boring English family by the surname of Dursley. Vernon was the man of the house. He was a large, burly man with close to no neck, and a thick mustache. These attributes made him look reminiscent of a walrus. He was in his mid twenties to early thirties, and worked at the office building of a drilling company that was about fifteen minutes' drive into town.

His wife, Petunia, was a tall, almost gangly woman with a slightly longer than normal neck and light brown hair, usually pulled into a bun. Her long face gave a resemblance to a horse. She was a typical housewife and took care of her unusually large son, Dudley, who had straight dirty blond hair. She often gossiped with the other women of the neighborhood. What they didn't know was that she was keeping a very large secret from them.

Only Arabella Figg, who lived a few houses down the street with her house full of cats, knew of the fourth occupant of No. 4. Whenever the Dursleys would go on holiday, they would discreetly drop off a young boy with untidy jet black hair and startlingly mature green eyes.

This skinny, pale boy was severely neglected and was viewed as a freak in their household. As such, he was hidden under the stairs in his prison: a ratty cupboard.

Only when he was joining primary school did he first learn his name and birth date: Harry Potter, July 31, 1980. It was not until he started learning the alphabet and reading that it was brought to attention that he required optical assistance, and only to keep up appearances did they buy him his spectacles. He still had to squint to read the simplest of words, which was testimony to how much they really "cared".

The beatings started when he was three years old. Vernon seemed to have neither conscience nor morals, and Petunia just gave her silent approval. Dudley enjoyed watching, as his father was his role model. It started out as the fabled two-by-four on the seat of his ratty, oversized hand-me-down pants, but that soon led to slaps, punches, and kicks all over his body, and finally the belt.

When he was at home, he was beaten. If he asked too many questions, a beating was in order. If he asked about his parents, the subject would be quickly changed, and Vernon used the two-by-four. Even when he asked the sobering, "Why do you hate me?" and Petunia's eyes widened, almost showing pity, Vernon would use his favorite, the belt, after telling him off for how ungrateful he was for their "care".

Each beating was followed by a certain period of the absence of food and allotted prison time. He was only let out twice a day to use the loo, and he still fixed all the meals. During school, they wouldn't send him back until he could walk without wincing, as he had open wounds on his back, and often times he had a few bruised or cracked, if not broken, bones. They would always play it off as, "He has a weak immune system."

Once, he had tried telling a teacher about his home life, and was ignored. The teacher told his aunt and uncle, earning him the reopening of the scars on his back, and the pouring of rubbing alcohol on his open skin, a new burning sensation searing through his body. He learned quickly not to trust adults.

He also was beaten at school by Dudley. He would often break Harry's glasses and eat him up on the playground, afterwards tying Harry by his old trainers' laces to a tree or a random piece of playground equipment, like the jungle gym or the tower. If other kids were nice to Harry or anything of the sort, Dudley would beat them up. If Harry tried to be friends with anyone, Dudley beat him up.

The only comfort Harry found was in books: his only friends. Even though his grades were terrible, atrocious, really, he would often rejoice within his mind when he saw Dudley's grades, which were wonderful, because he was the one who really did Dudley's homework. It was the only pride he had.

After testing the waters a few times, Harry discovered that he could stay after school, which got out at twelve o' clock, at the library for about five and a half hours, before he had to go home to make dinner. He soaked up information there, and learned about the world, and received hope from the fantasy section. Oftentimes on his walk "home" he could stop to visit his second favorite place, the abandoned No. 19 Privet Drive, which was set back in the woods by the park where it seemed that he was the only one able to find it. He would skip the library two to three times a week to explore No. 19, or settle there with a book.

It was during his second visit to the house that he discovered the door to the cellar. He gingerly opened the door by curiosity, and gaped at what he saw. He was six years old and it was the most food he had seen in his short life at one time. That cellar was what nourished his health in the months to come.

Harry Potter was a strong willed person, and as such, he didn't let the Dursleys' attitudes and beatings bring him down. He still had feelings, hopes, dreams, and insecurities, but he just hid them well. During his beatings, he let his mind wander to more pleasant things and shut everything out until all his feeling turned numb.

He was almost seven years old when the dream came.

* * *

It was always in third person. His consciousness drifted over a neighborhood of uniformly decorated, but slightly different, homes.

As his mind's eye passed along the sidewalk of the cobbled street, the town was periodically illuminated by brief strobes of lightning accompanied by loud claps of thunder, whilst the pouring rain covered all surfaces and made the sidewalk and road slick.

It was in the darkness between two street lamps that he paused to see the gate to the town graveyard. He floated over the fence and his gaze was immediately drawn to the point where two fences met where he viewed a man who seemed to be waiting.

The lightning flashed, and when his eyes readjusted, another man suddenly appeared next to the first, his cloak billowing in the wind.

The first man lowered his hood and dipped his head, revealing his slightly balding head. When he raised his head again, Harry could see his pointed nose, dark eyes, and gaunt face, which all together gave him look that screamed, "RAT!"

The rat-faced man quickly produced a scrap piece of parchment and swiftly jotted down a phrase, passing it to the other man, whose mere presence emanated power. As soon as he finished reading, the paper immediately burst into flame.

The cloaked man stepped out into the street and smiled, which was an overall unsettling effect. He watched as the fence between two properties split in half and slowly stretched away from each other, like two magnets of the same polarity, repelling each other.

Harry knew only fear at this point. The hooded and cloaked man seemed to know something that should never have been revealed to him.

The man steadily stalked forward and seemed to be almost at the point of evil, maniacal laughter. He was ready to kill and had done so before. The darkness of the man's soul seemed to escape him and collect outside his midnight-black cloak, slowly becoming an undulating, smoky fog and an extension of his robes, billowing in the wind.

Upon reaching the newly-revealed property, he drew a thin piece of wood, and with a flick of the wrist, the gate opened silently. Before he reached the porch, he began to chant in Latin, or a similar language, and moved his hands in a complex pattern.

Somehow Harry knew that escape was not an option for the occupants of the house. Either three or one would leave this place.

He raised his wand and a sphere of air at the end seemed to convulse before racing towards the front door.

BOOM!

The door shot off its hinges, in pieces, and was followed by a red jet of light.

As he walked through the door-frame, Harry caught a flash of red bounce up the stairs. The cloaked man reached out and lithely caught a second wand with his long, skeletal fingers, leaving the opposition defenseless.

"Ah, fancy seeing you here, James," he said, earning a grimace from said man on the floor. His voice was high, cold, and raspy, not unlike nails on a chalkboard. "You know what I want, James. Don't let your pure blood go to waste. It would be a shame to see that."

"If you think that I'll just step aside and let you take my flesh and blood, and what little hope we have left, then you are sorely mistaken, you sick bastard," he spat right back at him, and continued guarding the stairs.

"I have no mercy for fools."

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as a sickly green light proceeded to emit from the end of his wand, bathing the hallway in its light.

The spell shot towards James who kept his determined glare to the last. Only when his limp form landed in front of the stairs did his face relax. Harry's mind screamed in protest until he realized what had happened.

As the man stepped over James' body, a seething hatred for him permeated Harry's mind. He would need to become stronger in case he ever met this man.

Upon finding the bedroom, he proceeded to disintegrate the door, leaving nothing in its place. The lack of a door revealed Lily, who was guarding a crib with her own body. A young child with miniature green eyes like hers peered out from underneath her arm.

"I imagine you want the same deal as your darling husband, then?" he offered, toying with her.

"Not my baby," she whimpered. "Please, not Harry!"

"I only want the boy."

"No! Please!" she cried, tears flowing freely now. "Kill me! Just don't hurt him!"

He was beyond bargaining.

"I think not."

The green light filled the room again. When it died down, this time Lily's body slumped to the floor, dead, like a discarded rag doll.

Harry's anger surged again after seeing this. Watching the life leave Lily's eyes was infuriating.

The cloaked monster glided to the crib and peered down his nose at the one-year-old. Seeing Lily's green eyes reflected in the child's and a tuft of black hair caused him to connect the dots.

The young couple was his parents. The one thing he'd ever wanted in this life had been taken by this creature. No one in this world loved him, and the man in his dream had caused it. He now knew that this dream was real and that he had been lied to.

The all too familiar green light filled the room again, but this time an inhuman shriek filled the room; a scream that did not belong to this world. The cloaked man was vaporized before Harry's eyes, his body simply dissipated and dispersed.

Harry himself, in baby form, came away unscathed, save for a cut which by now was a distinctive scar on his forehead.

As his view drifted out of the destroyed home, he noticed that the lightning had stopped, seemingly in reverence for the souls of the honorable people that had passed that night. In agreement, the wind ceased also, in respect for the fallen.

The only thing that continued was the rain, scorning the memory of his parents, and he hated it for that. It was the only thing that continued when he lost everything, a reminder that mocked him. The life he could never have was now gone forever.

He always woke up screaming, sweating profusely, and crying without any sense of control. It seemed that only through pure desire was it that his relatives could not hear him during the night. Harry learned early on that crying made things worse, but nights like these brought him a time to let it all out.

It was the first night of the dream when suddenly all the street lamps disappeared from existence on his street.

* * *

After that night, strange things happened even more frequently around Harry. The first time before this was when he was four. He was preparing breakfast when Vernon started going off about how useless Harry's parents were, which Harry somehow knew was false. As he lifted his morning tea to his lips, the mug exploded, sending hot tea all over him. Harry was out of commission for two weeks after that, and could barely stay awake long enough to get sufficient fluids to sustain him.

Little things like that continued to happen about once every three months. After he discovered the numbing ability, things got steadily worse. Things in the house randomly disappeared, Harry would suddenly find himself in a new place, and he got blamed for everything. The most impressive thing happened, unbeknownst to him, when he dreamed of his parents the first time and the street lamps disappeared.

Every morning since he dreamed, Harry would do as much exercise as he could while inside the cupboard, because he wanted to become stronger. He would also take runs and found them to be quite relaxing after a nightmare. Visits to No. 19 became more frequent. He would get some food every day after school from the house and spend most of his weekends there, as the Dursleys were more than happy to have him out of the house.

It was the first day of July, 1989, when things took a turn for the worse, well worse than before. As Harry was cleaning out the kitchen, Vernon restated his opinions about Harry's parents when he couldn't take it any longer.

"Why do you insist that my parents were drunks and died in a car crash?" he asked. "I know they were murdered."

Petunia gasped. "How did you know that?"

"I've had nightmares about it almost every night for almost two years, now."

"No one dreams about something they couldn't possibly remember," Vernon spat scornfully. "Whatever you're dreaming isn't true."

"Yes it is," Harry replied.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT CONTRADICTING ME, BOY!" he yelled. "WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT THE FACT THAT YOUR PARENTS WERE LAZY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING DRUNKS WHO DIDN'T CARE ABOUT YOU ONE BIT?"

"That's not true, and you know it," Harry whispered. His green eyes glowed with fury, the very air crackled with electricity, and suddenly, Harry could see the truth in Vernon's mind. He was right, his uncle was wrong, and he could finally see through all the lies he'd been fed for his whole life.

Vernon slumped to the floor, unconscious, as all the windows in the house exploded with a crash.

Petunia's voice was shaky but the message was clear. "Leave now. You're not welcome here anymore," she said, her voice barely audible.

Harry gave her a dark look, his gaze filled with contempt, disgust, and, surprisingly, pity. He knew that she really did love her sister, but never got to say so again before Lily passed. That did not excuse the way she treated a child, though.

He turned away from his aunt, and he disappeared without a sound, a feat which he would soon learn to be near impossible. Unbeknownst to them, the protections there were quickly falling.

* * *

Many miles away to the north was an old castle. In the largest office, there sat an old man with light grey hair, a waist-length beard, a crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles. On the shelves around him laid many contraptions. Some whirred, clicked, and beeped, among other noises. What brought his attention to them were the puffs of smoke coming from several of them, and some of them melting.

"What?" he murmured, before his eyes widened in realization.

* * *

Harry found himself on the entrance mat to No. 19, Privet Drive. How he got there, he knew not, but he did know that he was never going back to his relatives again. He didn't know how true that statement was. Within twelve hours of his departure, all that would be left would be a smoking pile of rubble.

Since he had been visiting this house just about every day for the past three years, he decided to "set up camp", so to speak, here. The food seemed to never run out, there was no FOR SALE sign out in front, and no one had ever been there besides him, which he found to be quite peculiar, because for the life of him, he could not find any dust in the whole house.

For the next thirty days Harry stayed at No. 19. He exercised every day to keep his promise to become stronger and to be the best he could be. He ate and slept there, and went for runs outside, slowly building his stamina and endurance. The years of abuse and malnutrition still showed as he was still skinny, but he was slowly gaining muscle for his skin and bones. It was sad though, because he was starting to get lonely.

So as he awoke on July the thirty-first for his ninth birthday, he voiced his concerns and said so no one in particular, "I wish someone was here with me."

His request was answered with a loud crack, and to his astonishment, a three foot tall creature appeared. It had tennis ball sized eyes and floppy, bat-like ears. It looked impish with its grey skin and pointed nose. Wearing merely a pillowcase, an expensive looking one at that, it looked at him curiously.

"I is being Toby, Master Harry Potter, sir, and I is finally able to come at your call!" he said excitedly, and Harry promptly fainted.

* * *

Hey, everyone. This is my first attempt at writing anything, so please drop a review in the box. I'd really appreciate constructive criticism and an assesment of my abilities as a writer. Until next time,

Henry Baxendale


	2. Inheritance

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 2 – Inheritance

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Pre Author's Notes:

I'm very happy for how well this fic was received, especially since it is my first. I'm sorry if I set off your story alerts late on the 24th (I'm on the West Coast). I quickly removed chapter two because of a very good review shortly after posting the chapter in which ladysavay pointed out that I didn't have Harry very inquisitive. He sort of went along with everything Toby and Griphook said, and didn't really question anything. So I'm sorry if I got your hopes up then, but here is my revised Chapter 2, which is considerably longer than Chapter 1 by about a thousand words.

I also fixed some things I messed up on (mostly missing words) in Chapter 1 because I forgot to read through it.

I will also now be having numbers in parentheses for Author's Notes at the end.

THANK YOU LADYSAVAY!

Disclaimer:

I own nothing, sadly.

* * *

When Harry came to, all he could think about was the weird dream he just had. That and the unusual weight he had on his chest. He opened his eyes to see the same creature from his dream standing on him, and was quickly greeted by said creature's toothy smile. He stared with his mouth open, like a big stupid fish, and quickly sat up, suppressing a yell. He nearly knocked the creature off of the bed, and quickly said the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, what are you?"

The imp-thing just stared at him with the same smile, until it realized something. "Oh, I is being rude! I is being Toby, sir, and I is a house elf," he said proudly.

"Okay, what's a house elf?" he asked, playing along, as he was still in shock.

"A house elf is being a house helper that is magically bounded to a family. Wes be living off of wizard magic," he answered.

"Is this some sort of sick prank?" he asked. He didn't dare to hope.

"No, of course nots, sir!" Toby exclaimed. "House elves is being known for being mischievous, but no, I is never joking about the existence of magic!" he said indignantly, while looking a bit hurt.

"Prove it," Harry said almost darkly, still unbelieving.

Toby immediately snapped his fingers, and Harry suddenly found himself upside down, with his feet almost touching the ceiling.

"Okay, you can stop now!" Harry almost yelled, though secretly he was enjoying it, just a little bit.

"So is you believing me now?" Toby asked, not seeing how Harry could not.

"I believe the mischievous part, but I still don't see how I'm a wizard," he stated.

"Did yous not notice strange things happening arounds you?" Toby asked.

"You mean… I made those things happen? I made the cups explode, things disappear, and made myself appear in new places?" he asked, completely surprised.

"Yes, sir! Though I was not knowing about the apparating, sir," Toby answered.

"Apparating, is that when I reappear somewhere?" Toby responded with a nod. "And how do I know I can trust you?" he asked.

"Toby can be making an unbreakable vow to you, sir, to tell the truth. If I lies, sir, I will be dying," he admitted.

"All right," Harry said. "Show me."

Toby grasped Harry's forearm and said, "Toby solemnly swears upon his life and his magic that I is not telling lies, nor will I do so. Yous and magic is my witness, so mote it bes."

A bright light filled the room, and Harry couldn't see anything for a moment. When he regained vision, Toby was still there, alive and well, and Harry's doubts suffered a loss.

"Alright, Toby, I think I am starting to believe you, but I still don't understand _how_, exactly I'm a wizard." Harry admitted.

"You's parents was wizards, also, sir! They was being great people and since they was being magical, yous is being magical. You's names is being down for Hogwarts since you was born." Harry remembered his dreams and that was the only explanation the made sense. His parents were killed by another wizard.

"What's Hogwarts?" Harry inquired.

"Hogwarts is being a great place, sir! It is being a magical boarding school where your parents was schooled at. Magical children is being at that school when theys is eleven years old," Toby answered truthfully.

"Toby, all of this is very interesting and, frankly, strange, but how come you couldn't get to me at my relatives' house?" Harry asked.

Toby looked sad for a moment, but then said, "Toby is not sure of the answer, Master Harry. Sir, but me thinks it has to do withs your ages." Seeing Harry's blank stare forced him to elaborate. "You is now old enough to receive you Lordships of the House of Potter."

"And how, might I ask, are we to do that?" Harry inquired.

"We must be going to Gringotts Bank, sir!" Toby replied.

"Alright, Toby but there's no need for this sir business. You can just call me Harry," he admonished.

The elf suddenly clutched Harry's midsection and began to cry. "Wizards is never treating elves with respect, sir!" he cried, ignoring the look Harry gave him. "Harry Potter is being the best wizard known to elven kinds!"

Harry just awkwardly patting Toby's back, as he had no experience in comforting people. Even though his upbringing was not so, he still wanted to be the opposite of his relatives; a good person who is able to trust people. When Toby finally stopped crying, he looked up at Harry sheepishly.

"I is being sorry," he apologized. He broke eye contact and finally took a look around the room. "Where is we being at the moment?" he asked.

"We're at No. 19, Privet Drive," he said. "It's a safe place."

"Yes, it is being very safe, because I almost always knows where I am," Toby stated. He adopted a pensive look until, "I knows this place!" he squealed. "I was being here when it was created by Master and Mistress!"

"Are you talking about my parents?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes," Toby said. "This house is being outfitted for the needer's needs! It is not unlikes the Come and Go Room at Hogwarts! It is being unplottable, changing for needs, and un-refindable by anyone but a Potter, or someone invited by them. It is also having wards to prevents direct entrances by apparition or portkey, except house elf popping."

"Come and Go Room? Portkey? What are those?" Harry asked.

"The Come and Go Room is also being known as the Room of Requirement," Toby answered. "It is a magical room that, after needing something very badly, and pacing three times in fronts of the entrance, the door will appears, and will be whats you needed. Many peoples have used it, but few have seens it more than once." Toby went on, "Portkey is an ordinary house object that is filled with magic. When the chosen time comes, and yous be holding or touching it, yous will be transported to a new place!" Toby informed him.

"Okay," Harry said, soaking up information, "but how did I apparate here if there are wards in place?"

Toby's face became thoughtful for a moment, and then he said, "Toby is not knowing the answers to that question." Toby gave Harry a few moments to think of any other questions he might have, but his inquisitive side seemed to be exhausted for the moment. Toby then informed him that they needed to be going to Gringotts, now.

"Can you step out into the hall for a moment?" Harry asked. "I need to gather my thoughts before we leave."

As soon as Toby closed the door, Harry leaned back and ran his hand through his hair with a large intake of air. His brain immediately kicked into overdrive. He found himself with what looked to be irrefutable proof of magic, but he still couldn't shake the tendencies regarding it that had been (1) drilled into him as a child. He had quickly lost hope as a child, so why should he be quick to believe again?

_You have proof staring you in the face, and if it's not enough now, more will come later,_ part of his brain replied.

_But how can I trust him?_ another said.

_You don't have to trust him completely; just don't be like your horrible relatives that don't trust people at all! _The first said. _Put a little faith in the unknown. After all, that's what faith actually is._

When Harry finished his internal debate, he called Toby back in and said he was ready to go. Toby promptly grabbed Harry's arm and snapped the fingers on his other hand, causing the world to spin.

* * *

Harry felt like he was being forced into the smallest space possible, and even that was shrinking on him. An impossible amount of gravity seemed to push on him, all while feeling an immense cold, like he was in the depths of space. Not that he'd ever been there, of course.

When he regained his vision and ability to breathe, all he could do was look up at the most a dazzlingly white building he had ever seen. The large gate-like double doors were flanked by two giant pillars which looked similar to Roman architecture. There was a part of the building that hung over the door, resting on the pillars. On this section of the building, in golden letters, it said: GRINGOTTS BANK. Between each side of the door frame and that respective side's pillar he saw two even more peculiar-looking creatures than Toby. Each was wearing a golden suit of armor with spikes along the spine and shoulders, and a red sash around the waist. Each of them also held a large battle axe.

Harry gulped audibly when he saw the wicked blades. Toby reassured him with a pat on the arm and said that they'd only attack if you tried to steal something, or severely offended a goblin.

"Really? Goblins?" Harry asked. Toby responded with a bob of his head.

As they drew near to the doors, they ominously swung into the building, allowing Harry and Toby entrance to the bank. As they passed by, the goblins nodded curtly at them. Harry noticed that they were about a head shorter than him, but they could still kill him in a heartbeat, regardless of how fast he was.

In the entrance hall they reached a second pair of doors, but this time, and inscription was posted on it:

"_Enter stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware,_

_Of finding more than treasure there."_

"As yous can see, Harry, this places is very safe," Toby said.

Harry merely responded with a nod, the words of warning reverberating in his mind. These doors opened into a vast marble hall. The marble in the flooring made everyone's steps click and clack and had a glossy shine to it. To the right and left were long counters with goblins behind them on tall stools. Seeing them without suits of armor made it easier to see what they looked like: they all had pointed noses, dark eyes that looked like beetles, many sharp teeth, and long, spindly fingers and feet.

At the far end of the hall was another of these counters, but it was perpendicular to the rest, effectively making the room a large rectangle. There were many different customers, some opening new vaults; some making deposits and some making withdrawals, though there weren't enough people for every goblin to be occupied. Some of the goblins were also weighing various gemstones with the scales on their table.

Toby led Harry to an unoccupied goblin, whose nameplate indicated that it was Griphook, after whispering in his ear.

Harry repeated, "Griphook, sir, may your vaults flow with gold and may you dance on the corpses of your enemies."

Griphook looked surprised. "May your endeavors prosper and your descendants flourish," he replied. "Not many wizards have the decency to show proper respect to us. We are viewed as barely sentient, Mr.?"

"Potter, master goblin, my name is Harry Potter."

"Well then, Mr. Potter, what is it that you require today?"

Toby responded to this question. "We is here to be having him get new keys for his vaults, the reading of his parent's wills, and to claim his Lordships."

"Right this way, then," the goblin said.

A section of the counter disappeared, so Harry and Toby followed Griphook back into a cave-like entrance that had just appeared behind him. They quickly entered and the wall rematerialized behind them.

The room they entered was round and hard-wood floor, with a large carpet in the middle. Directly across from them was Griphook's desk with his name on it, and two chairs in front. To the right was a large fireplace, and to the left stood a wooden door that looked to be the oldest thing in the room.

Griphook sat at his desk and bade them to sit in the chairs. He snapped his fingers, and just a second later, a small dagger appeared in his hand.

"We have much to discuss," he stated. "But first, Mr. Potter, we must have proof of you identity."

Griphook motioned for Harry to come forward, and handed him the dagger, explaining that he needed some blood, as it was similar to a fingerprint in the Muggle, or non-magical world. Upon seeing Harry's mortified expression, the goblin assured him that only a small amount of blood was needed, and he would be healed up shortly.

So Harry pricked his finger and deposited three drops of blood into the indicated basin, which had a curious liquid in it.

When the third drop entered the basing, the mixture turned golden in color. Griphook then took a piece of parchment, held it perpendicular to the surface of the liquid, and put the first inch or so of paper into it. The blood appeared to seep up through the paper and when finished and dried, it had produced words on the parchment.

Griphook read the information out loud:

"Name: Harry James Potter

Birth Date: July 31, 1980

Father: James Charlus Potter

Mother: Lily Nicole Evans-Potter

Physical Guardians: Vernon and Petunia Dursley (DECEASED)

Magical Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Minor"

The goblin looked over the information for a moment before pronouncing its validity. "I think I'm convinced that you're who you say you are, Mr. Potter."

"The… the Dursleys are dead?" he asked. He didn't like them all that much, but that didn't that he wished them dead. "And who's this Albus 'too many middle names' Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, they are dead. It was confirmed by Mr. Dumbledore himself," Griphook replied. "Albus himself is one of the most trustworthy and famous people of our world, apart from, arguably, yourself."

"Wait, slow down. I'm famous? And if Albus Dumbledore is so awesome, then how come he put me with such horrible people?"

"Oh, I thought you knew about your fame," the goblin explained. "Your fame comes from the fact that you are the only known survivor of a dark curse. This certain curse's only purpose is to bring death. No one really questions Mr. Dumbledore these days, because he led the army of light against Voldemort, the man who killed your parents and tried to kill you."

"Does this curse happen to produce a green light?" Harry inquired.

"Why, yes, it does, Mr. Potter," the goblin answered, surprised. He didn't push it further, because, honestly, it wasn't his job to do so.

He then produced a small box, about the size of one's hand, and presented it to Harry. He opened it, and he could see the two halves of a key mold inside. "You now only need to put blood into this, and you will be able to open any of your vaults with the key produced."

Harry did as he was told, and withdrew his finger when Griphook said the blood was sufficient. The goblin also passed his hand over Harry's finger, and when he removed it, the cut was gone. He closed the box, waited a few seconds, and then opened it again. Inside laid a golden key with several oddly shaped teeth along its edge.

"This key will open all vaults available to you," he stated again, "and if lost or stolen, it will return to your pocket. You may return to your seat, now. I will be reading the wills in a moment's time."

Griphook snapped his fingers once again, and two envelopes appeared in his hand. He took a look at them and started reading the outside. (2) "Herein lies the last will and testament of James Charlus Potter. This will is only to be opened and read in the presence of at least my son, Harry James Potter, with no more than Remus John Lupin and/or Sirius Orion Black; along with one other person whom Harry brings to this reading and trusts" Griphook opened the will and began to read again.

"I, James Charlus Potter, being of sound mind and body, will that upon my death, fifty thousand Galleons are to be donated to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"To one Remus John Lupin: I bequeath fifty thousand Galleons to you, in order to help you financially and also to fund your research to cure your "furry little problem".

"To Sirius Orion Black: I give you the physical and magical guardianship of my only son, Harry James Potter, as you are already his 'dogfather' and have no need for money.

"Finally, to my son, Harry James Potter: You are to take the Lordship of the Potter Clan, thereby emancipating you. I also leave you the rest of my financial properties and assets. After all of your business has been taken care of at Gringotts, you are to go to Ollivander's Wand shop, to pick up the wand that Lily and I have already paid for. After your wand has chosen you, Ollivander is to remove the trace on it, as you will be a legal adult by then. Afterwards, Toby is to escort you to the Potter Manor, where Lily and I have a few surprises for you. Upon our deaths, Lily and my statuses as Secret Keeper for any properties under the Fidelius Charm have passed to you, and only you can bring people to those places. Even though we are already dead, as this will is being read, I felt the need to inform you of all this.

"That is all. Here ends the last will and testament of James Charlus Potter."

Harry thought for a moment. "What is a Fidelius Charm? Who are Remus Lupin and Sirius Black? What's the 'furry little problem'?" Harry asked. "And are Galleons some sort of currency?"

"I'll answer the easiest question first," the goblin replied. "Yes, Galleons are the form of currency the people of the magical world in Britain use. There are 17 Sickles to a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. Each Galleon is worth about 5 pounds, a Sickle is 0.29 pounds, and a Knut is 0.01 pounds."

He continued. "The Fidelius Charm is a strong piece of magic that erases the memory of a place from everyone in the world, except the specified Secret Keeper. The Secret is stored within the very soul of the Keeper, and only they have the power to reveal the location to anyone.

"As for Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black, they were very good friends of your parents," Griphook said. "I don't believe it is my place to tell you about Mr. Lupin's affliction. Unfortunately, you will not be able to meet Sirius Black, as he is in Azkaban prison. He was not given a trial, so we goblins do not actually believe him to be guilty." Before Harry could ask, he answered with, "It is not my place to tell you what he 'did', even if we believe him innocent."

Finally, Griphook looked at Lily's will and opened it, as the prerequisites had been met. He looked at the contents of each and discerned no difference between the two. "I don't see any need to read your mother's will aloud because it is the exact same as your father's, except obviously the name, effectively getting their wished across," he stated. "As for money, your parents were quite well off, and each had about five million Galleons in their personal vaults, not including the trust vault they set up for you, which contains a maximum of fifty thousand Galleons, and is refilled four times a year. You will only be able to access this vault until you are seventeen, the age of majority in the magical world. After that, you'll be able to access your parents' vaults. Would you like to visit the trust vault at this time?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," he replied. Harry suddenly got a wistful look in his eye, and tears started to well up.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" the goblin asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just wish I could trade it all for my family back," he said, fighting his tears and barely winning.

"I know this is hard for you, especially at this age, but it's alright to miss your parents," Griphook said solemnly. The goblin stood up. "We will be going to the vault now, and I trust, no pun intended, that the ride will lift your spirits," the goblin informed him.

Harry cracked half a smile and asked, "Really?" hopefully.

"Yes, I think so," Griphook replied. "Kids always love it."

Griphook motioned them to stand and led them over to the left side of the room, to the old door Harry had seen before. Griphook opened the door and brought them through, so they were in front of some train-like tracks. The goblin snapped his fingers for about the fifth time that day, and a small mining cart quickly arrived out of the darkness of the tunnel, to stop just in front of them.

Harry agreed with Griphook about five seconds into the ride. It was the most exhilarating thing he'd ever experienced. It had so many twists and turns that Harry lost track of which direction they were going. Harry swore that if he would have looked to his right a split second earlier, he would have seen a dragon! He had felt a hot burst of air and seen a flash of bright orange out of the corner of his eye, but turned just too late.

The only thing Toby did was screaming. A loud, "WHEEEEE!" preceded them all the way down to the vault.

It seemed that just as the ride was getting good that they reached the vault of interest. The door had a small keyhole for security and a sizeable platform jutted out over the depths of the tunnel.

They pulled up to the platform and got off of the cart. Harry withdrew the key from his pocket, and gingerly unlocked the door to the cavernous room. Harry took one look into the vault, and gaped for the second time in his life, and it certainly would not be his last. Tall towers of gold, silver, and bronze lined the walls, but what quickly caught his attention were the twin trunks in the middle of the room.

Each school trunk had some initials on it. The one on the left was inscribed with JCP, and the other LNEP. The labeling immediately told him who these trunks belonged to.

Harry slowly walked over to them and carefully brushed his fingers over the initials. He felt the tears coming again, and quickly gained control.

Toby touched his arm softly and whispered, "Toby can be shrinking them trunks so theys be fitting in your pocket."

"Thank you, Toby. That will be all right," Harry replied.

When Toby finished, Harry walked back to Griphook, who offered him a drawstring bag. It was silky black and felt smooth to the touch.

"This bag is bottomless, feather-light, connected to this vault, and if it's lost or stolen, it will return to you shortly. It will only work for you, and you need only to think of an amount of money, reach into the bag, and it will be there," he said. Harry slipped it into his pocket with the vault key.

"Thank you Griphook," he said.

The ride back to Griphook's office was just as exhilarating as the ride to the vault, but it was again too short, and Harry yearned for more adrenaline.

When they entered the office again, Griphook had them sit down and then withdrew a piece of paper from his desk. When he had told Harry how to claim his Lordship, Harry did so promptly.

"I, Harry James Potter, last scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, hereby lay claim to the title of Lord Potter, along with the seats of the Wizengamot due to the House of Potter."

The paper in front of Griphook glowed for a few second, and then the light died down. On the parchment, some words had appeared:

Name: Harry James Potter

Lordship Includes: The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter

Wizengamot Seats: 4

Proxy: Unspecified

"Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, you cannot be a member of the Wizengamot yet," Griphook explained. "Therefore you will need someone to take your place on the council until you turn twenty."

"Well, I don't really know anyone in this world yet, apart from you and Toby, so I'll need to meet with Remus soon to see if he is a satisfactory candidate," Harry said wisely.

"Now," Griphook said, getting down to business, "we must run a diagnostic test on you as it is customary for new Lords. The function of this test is to make sure you are not being controlled or manipulated in any way. Now, if you'll follow me, the ritual room is right this way."

They exited Griphook's office and reentered the marble hallway. They took an immediate right and entered through another section of the wall that disappeared like the entrance to Griphook's office.

The room they entered next was very interesting, to say the least. From where they entered, there were stairs leading down in front of them down into an area that was almost like a coliseum arena. In the center of the room was a raised stone slab with goblins in pure white robes sitting around it, eyes closed in meditation.

Griphook started speaking to them in Gobbledegook, and all of them opened their eyes at the same time, creating an ominous effect.

Griphook told Harry that he would only need to remove his shirt for the application of some runes, and then the goblins would start the ritual, which would last anywhere from fifteen minutes to a half an hour. So Harry partially disrobed himself and allowed the cool paint to be applied to his chest. He carefully laid himself on the stone slab and closed his eyes. The head goblin priest, called Darkfang, soon sat next to him and put his long fingers on Harry's temples.

He could barely hear the goblins moving as they danced, but he could hear their chanting, which made no sense to him, as he didn't know any Gobbledegook. As he listened, he slowly drifted into slumber…

* * *

Post Author's Notes:

(1) If you get the pun, you get a cookie.

(2) As I don't speak legalese, I'll have to take your criticism for how realistic I made the will.

LadyCalus – thanks for your review and I hope this chapter spelled out the fate of the Dursleys for you.

Shannalynn – I thank you also for your review and I will be explaining the thing about Toby being able to answer the call in the next chapter, because *gasp* Toby's explanation was incorrect. I'd also like to respectfully point out that Dobby was able to directly "pop" into Harry's room in Privet Drive, so Dumbledore's wards are not the answer.

I would also like thank Love is simply Eternal, tumshie, hamrensel, starboy454, Ngbeken Lovette, hhrforeverhhr, Tentrees, vlbuehle, ArashiKage Naruto, Patrick S, HarryHermioneBellaSwan, PrincessCupcake, dbzgtfan2004, naruchan84, and sh777 for your kind words and encouragement.

I would finally like to thank LadySavay (again) and novastorm76. I hope this is a little more realistic for your guys' tastes.

Thank you all,

Henry Baxendale


	3. Meditation, A Wand, and Unexpected Faces

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 3 – Meditation, a Wand, and Unexpected Faces

Pre Author's Notes:

I'd like to thank you all again for the positive reviews I've been getting. They make me happy and boost my self-esteem.

Disclaimer:

I don't own it; I simply play in the sandbox.

* * *

Harry's dreams were plagued by shadows. Images of the night his parents died and ghostly apparitions of days filled with torture at the Dursleys' hands consumed him. He kept screaming for the bloody images to disappear, but they felt like they were anchored to the middle of his forehead, which was burning like nothing else.

Cold fingers on his shoulders woke him, causing him to sit up quickly, his sweaty hair matted to his head. He reached up with his own cold digits to touch his forehead and drew them back swiftly. His forehead really was burning!

He shook his head to dispel the grogginess. "What are the results?" he asked.

Griphook answered him. "The head goblin priest is still going over them and will inform you in a moment."

The next five minutes were agonizingly long for Harry. He just hoped to God that nothing was seriously wrong with him. Boy was he in for a treat.

Darkfang finally opened his eyes and stood up. He walked over to Harry and began his evaluation.

The goblin pointed to Harry's forehead. "Darkness resides here, Mr. Potter. We would be able to remove it if it was immediately life threatening, but you are not yet healthy enough to undergo such treatment anyway. We will provide you with some potions to improve your condition, though." Darkfang prepared himself to give the worst news.

His hand went south and rested on the middle of Harry's chest; his sternum. "You are not familiar with what the magical core is, am I right?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "Your magical core is more problematic than the darkness. You see, the magical core is the intangible source of a magical being's power. There isn't really an exact size, per say, but when measuring the power of a core we generally equate power with size.

"As a magical person gets older, their magical core, more often than not, grows in power and also when you regularly put it to use. It is not uncommon for children of magical parents to have a block be put on their magical core, in order to decrease the potency and frequency of accidental magic. The same can be said for you.

"A side effect of the block is that it prevents house elves from coming at your call. The peculiar thing is that your block is still in place, which should have kept Toby from apparating to you. Upon further inspection, we discovered that your magical core is much larger and more mature than normal for your age, and that its recharge rate is almost instantaneous. Your magical core level is at about a fourth year's at Hogwarts at the moment.

"There are two configurations of the block and they are known as Constriction and Absorption. Yours falls into the latter category. This block is like an eggshell. Your core is like a sphere, and the eggshell is partially integrated into the edge of your core. The block feeds off of your magic to sustain itself, but given your recharge rate, it is nearing dangerous levels of energy. If the block absorbs too much magic, it will destroy itself and cause you magical core to implode, which will kill you. Normally, it would dispel itself when you turn eleven, but it will kill you before then.

"We took yet a closer look, and what we saw astonished us again. Your core has partially retracted itself from the block, which begs the question: have you ever delved into the Mind Magics, or partitioned your mind?"

Harry pondered this question for a time, but couldn't think of anything. But suddenly, remembered. "What about blocking off my senses?"

"Please elaborate," the goblin told him.

Harry took on a pained look for a second, but steeled himself. "When I was beaten by my uncle for extended periods of time, my mind would wander, almost leaving my body behind." Darkfang nodded for him to continue. "When this happened, I couldn't feel, hear, see, or taste anything, which I think would qualify as a partitioning of my mind."

"That is an astute statement, Mr. Potter," Darkfang said. "I think that this has also helped you keep your sanity, perhaps at the cost of mental order. Learning Occlumency, the defensive branch of Mind Magic, will be a challenge for you, I think." The goblin continued. "This also has enlightened me as to how Toby was able to go to you. While your relatives beat you, your magical core started slowly extracting itself from the block, although not completely; thus our current predicament. The block itself cut off the magic that goes to the house elf you call, and the magic creates a trail, allowing the elf to follow it to you. Toby could always hear you, but he wasn't able to go to you. By the time your core had removed itself enough for you to call Toby, I think that you had given up hope that someone could come to save you. But before you get angry, I would just like to say that the way your relatives treated you forced your magic to keep you alive, effectively causing your magic to grow every day. You still would have been powerful, most likely rivaling Dumbledore, but because of your upbringing, you'll probably surpass him in about your fifth year at Hogwarts."

"I guess everything happens for a reason," Harry said bitterly.

"The level of your power may save your life one day," he rebuked.

"I'll give you that," Harry replied. "I guess this all makes sense now," he acknowledged. "Once, I think that I accidentally read my uncle and aunt's minds, before I left one month ago," Harry remembered.

Griphook responded this time. "Yes, that would be the account of the underage Legilimency that I received from the Ministry," the goblin said. Harry gave him a surprised look. "I'll explain it to you when we're done here."

"Now," Darkfang began, "I will teach you how to save your life. I will be guiding you through the steps of meditation. You'll be more aware of your surroundings, and it will also help you gain back control of your mind. Once you do this, you will be able to put it back in order so that you can learn Occlumency. When you reach the final steps, you'll be able to find your magical core and coax it to completely remove itself from the block, which will force the block to dispel itself."

Harry's mind was reeling. First, he had to watch images that he'd wanted to never see again, then informed that dark magic was in his scar, had a ten minute, mind-blowing lecture about magical cores, and to top it all off, he'd basically been told that if he didn't master the art of meditation, his magical core would implode, killing him in the process. Not a good way to start the week!

Darkfang started the lesson by telling Harry how he would be meditating, and told him some more benefits. In essence, he would be letting the resident magic flow through his extremities, giving him a better grasp on his magic. It would help him to cast spells easier, and even achieve wandless magic when his core had matured enough, as he would be able to connect to his magic quickly and easily.

They started out sitting, as this was easiest for beginners. "Clear your mind," Darkfang said. "Let your thoughts run free and don't worry about stray ones, they will pass. When you have achieved this, the next step is to focus on the tips of your fingers and toes. They should feel slightly numb, but with some sort of vibration running through them. Have you cleared your mind?" he asked.

"No, and it's frustrating," Harry answered.

"Getting angry only makes it harder," Darkfang said. "I imagine that your mind is still overwhelmed by all you've seen and heard today."

"Yes, it is," Harry admitted.

"You do have about a year to a year and a half before your life will be cut short, so we should probably stop for now," the goblin said after about ten minutes of sitting. "Practice clearing your mind every night and morning, and if you have trouble, you can always ask me for assistance here," Darkfang informed him. "If you do not get past that step, find the tingling in your fingers and then see if you can't follow it along your extremities. When this is done, come to me for the next step."

"I am sincerely grateful, Darkfang, but why are you all at Gringotts doing all this for me?" he asked, as he was a little more than surprised.

"Think of it as us returning the favor, Mr. Potter," the goblin answered. "Business was not doing so well during the last wizarding war. People didn't trust our vaults as much as their own homes. Because of your defeat of Voldemort, business picked back up quite nicely." The goblin gave him a sly wink.

Harry addressed the rest of the priests. "Thank you all for your assistance today. You've all been a great help."

They all nodded at him and gave him a goblin salute, informing him of how welcome he was.

Harry and Toby followed Griphook out into the marble hall again and back into his office. Griphook sighed, which was sort of an unsettling thing, as he was a goblin, and tried to decide how to explain this next bit.

"Harry, the Ministry of Magic has a Trace on every magical child in Britain," he began. "If any magic is performed around the underage person, the Trace reports the magic to the Ministry, and the Head of the Department of Improper Use of Magic sends out a letter to the perpetrator. They don't even recognize as accidental magic, as the effects of it can be duplicated with a charm or curse, and they only recognize it as such.

"For instance, I have here a grand total of about seventeen explosive hexes, an account of Legilimency, and a very powerful vanishing charm. Do you remember those?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I don't remember every single explosion or the vanishing charm, but I remember the Legilimency."

"Ah, this letter says that the vanishing spell was cast on July 27th, 1987. Does that ring any bells?"

Harry responded with, "How is accidental magic induced?"

"It happens when you feel intense emotions, mostly anger or sadness, although there are rare cases in which it is performed through happiness."

"Okay, I think I know what happened," Harry acknowledged. "I had a dream that really upset me, but that would mean that I did the magic in my sleep," Harry said disbelievingly. "The next day, all the street lamps in the neighborhood disappeared. I never gave it a second thought."

"If you're sure that's what happened, then that means that you are considerably more powerful than we originally thought. While instances of performing magic during sleep are not completely unheard of, though scarce, that was still a very impressive piece of magic, Harry," the goblin replied. "Now, if you have no other questions?" Harry shook his head in response. "Then I will be giving you your potions and send you off to Ollivander's."

The goblin snapped his fingers. A crate of potion vials appeared on the desk, making a clacking noise, alerting them to its presence.

Griphook indicated towards the chest. "These potions are to be taken with every meal, as they will do nothing for your health if taken by themselves. Over the next two years, they will gradually fix your body, as we don't want the process to go too fast and become detrimental to your health, instead of aiding it. They will fix your stunted growth and finally allow the meat you've been working on to adorn your bones."

He then shrank the crate, and Harry put it into his pocket along with everything else.

"Thank you Griphook. You've been of more help than I think you know," Harry acknowledged. "May your endeavors prosper and your descendants flourish," he said, dipping his head.

"May your vaults flow with gold and may you dance on the corpses of your enemies," the goblin replied, mirroring the boy's gesture.

And with that, Harry departed from Gringotts. When they exited the bank, Harry finally got his first good look at the rest of Diagon Alley.

What he saw gave his impression of Gringotts a run for its Galleons, as the goblins, and the rest of the magical people in Britain, for that matter, say. The grey brick street was wide, and had merchants with carts all along the side of the road. Behind almost every merchant was a shop. There were stores that sold wizarding and school robes, some with peculiar foods that Harry couldn't wait to try, windows full of interesting ingredients such as bat wings (among other things), and a bookstore. Harry was immediately drawn to the latter, and Toby had to pull him back on course more than a couple times, and was beginning to wonder if he was purposely deviating or not.

"Harry, we must go to the wand shop!" Toby stated indignantly.

"I just want to check it out," Harry whined like a five year old.

Finally realizing the source of Harry's distraction, Toby replied, "Harry, there is a large libraries at the Potter Manor," teasingly.

Harry appeared to snap to attention, and quickly said, "What are you waiting for, Toby? We have to get to the wand shop!"

Just rolling his eyes at Harry's antics, he pulled the young boy along that had the attention span of a six year old that had ADD, a bucket of M & M's, and was on cough syrup, up until they reached a smaller shop that looked quite old.

The message atop the shop read: _Ollivander's Wand Shop_ and right over the door, it said: _Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. _

When they entered, the bell on top of the door chimed, but no one came out immediately. The first thing Harry noticed as he came inside was the many rows of shelves that went through the back of the building, and the thousands of narrow boxes on each of the shelves. Seeing as no one had come to service him yet, Harry took the only seat in front of the counter: a small stool that looked to be as old as the wand business.

Harry heard a constant rustling sound in the back of the store, but couldn't see the exact cause of the noise. He knew that someone was back there, but he just waited for them to come out.

That would be the reason that he was so surprised when a shriveled old man appeared next to him, looking at him as if he were some strange animal in a zoo exhibit.

Harry turned and inspected the man as closely as he was being watched. He had shoulder length grey hair, a receding hair line, a wise, wrinkly face, a pale gold cloak, and a strange tunic underneath said cloak, adorned with a thick neck-tie. Overall, the look made Harry wonder if Ollivander had been here since the start of the shop.

The man stuck out his hand like a true businessman, and Harry took the hand, albeit cautiously.

"Ollivander," he stated. Harry opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the man cut in again. "Harry Potter. I've been wondering when I'd be seeing you. Although this is earlier than expected, I imagine that you're here for the wand your parents paid for." Harry merely nodded his head struggling to find any words.

He finally found his voice. "Do you have the wand, Mr. Ollivander?"

"Now, now, Mr. Potter, that's not how it works. The wand chooses the wizard, my boy, not the other way around," he corrected. "We just have to get you to look at several of them, and you'll know when it's the right one. You're a smart boy."

He then had Harry stand up, and started using his tape measure to catalogue the dimensions of several places of his body; arm, shoulder, and nostril lengths, for example. After about five minutes of that, Ollivander went back behind the counter and rummaged around for a minute.

After a while, he called out, "You know, I remember every wand I ever sold. Your mother's was Willow, ten and a quarter inches long, nice and swishy; good for charms. Your father was preferred by an eleven inch Mahogany wand. It was quite pliable and excellent for Transfiguration." He walked back to the counter and set down several boxes. "I just thought you might have wanted to know about your parents."

"Thank you Ollivander, that was very thoughtful," Harry replied.

Ollivander slapped a wand into Harry's hand. "Just give it a wave," he said with a knowing smile, a nod, and a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Harry gripped in his fist. He raised it and held it up in the air, gently giving it a tentative wave. A vase on the counter exploded, sending the shattered ceramic flying.

"Yeah, that would not be the right one," Ollivander acknowledged. He gave Harry another wand, but quickly took it back, muttering, "No, no, that could be disastrous," under his breath.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and gave him a curious look, but his attention was called to another wand that had entered his hand. He gave that wand a wave and this time boxes in the back flew off the shelves, along with some stray pieces of parchment, floating like giant snowflakes.

One or two dozen wands and a nearly destroyed shop later, Ollivander started looking furtive, like he was pondering something of great importance. Suddenly deciding that it wasn't working out with the wands present, he grabbed them and took them back to the shelves. He took a glance over his shoulder, spied a lonely box on an abandoned shelf, and murmured a barely audible, "I wonder."

Ollivander walked back to the front of the shop with a far-off look in his eyes. Harry cocked his head, asking for an explanation. "Holly, eleven inches, and a phoenix feather core. Give that a wave, Mr. Potter. I'll tell you after you try it."

Harry grasped the wand with the handling position he had practiced and nearly perfected by now. When it touched his fingers, he felt warmth suddenly flowing from his fingertips, slowly filling the appendage and reached up into his chest. The feeling was one of a kind. It made him feel empowered and had him hooked. In short, it was addicting.

He gave it a gentle, almost loving wave and a shower of crimson and gold sparks burst from the wand, filling the room with the feeling he was having. Ollivander now had a look that Harry didn't recognize; it was somewhere between dread and admiration, maybe a mixture of both.

"Curious, truly curious," he said.

"Sorry, sir, but what's curious?" Harry inquired.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, though it is not always clear why," he responded. "The phoenix that gave your wand its core gave one other feather, just one other. It is curious that this wand has chosen you when its brother… when its brother gave you that scar."

"Voldemort," Harry whispered.

"You would do well not to speak his name in the company of those who fear even his name," he admonished. "Luckily, I do not fall into that category. I knew him as a boy, from humble beginnings, not unlike you."

"And what was his name? His real one, I mean?" Harry asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he answered truthfully. "I understand that you want to know more about the man who destroyed your family; God knows I'd want to if I were in your place. But I won't be answering any more of your questions, now. I've spoken enough on the matter as it is."

"Now, what's this business about the trace?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Normally, the trace is lifted from witches and wizards alike when they turn seventeen, but it can be removed before then if the person is emancipated. It is not only illegal to do, but also nearly impossible, as the people at the Ministry are the only ones who really know how it works. As for early removal, I, along with a select few have the authority to remove the trace, but only with the legal documents from the ministry. Luckily, I have such documents, and it will only take a moment to remove the trace. I will also be removing the underage tracking charm from your wand."

Harry stiffened up, but it was short-lived, as Ollivander assured him that he wouldn't feel a thing. Ollivander raised his wand and chanted inaudibly for about thirty seconds, then proclaimed it done and finished.

Harry expected some kind of noise would accompany the lifting of the trace, but he was disappointed. It seemed like an unjust and anticlimactic end that deserved some sort of catalyst to help remember this moment clearly. Even something internal would have been welcome enough; some kind of assault on the senses. But it was not to be, and Harry finally accepted it with a bit of a pout. The wand felt no different, but he hadn't really expected anything from the piece of wood in his hand.

"Yes, I agree," Ollivander replied to the silent statement. "It really should have something to remember it by. Well, I'm sure you'll need to head off; lots of important things to do, I suppose. It was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ollivander," Harry returned. "I may come back sometime to see you, sir."

"And you will be most welcome, my dear boy," Ollivander replied.

"Good day, sir."

"Likewise."

As Harry exited the shop, he cast a glance over his shoulder, and saw the smile Ollivander had trained to his back. He smiled back, and gave him a short wave.

When Harry and Toby finally left, Ollivander said aloud, "I believe we can expect great things from you, young man."

When Harry and Toby arrived at the edge of the street again, the bespectacled boy took in his surroundings once more, drinking in the fascinating sights of Diagon Alley, hoping to quench his seemingly perpetual thirst to see more of this new world he had been so quickly introduced to.

Toby just waited patiently until Harry had had enough. "Is you being ready to go to the Potter Manor, yet, sir?"

"Yes, I think I'm ready, now," he answered.

Toby gripped his new master, who had quickly become one of his dearest friends, on the arm and popped away. To Harry, the feeling that accompanied it was still surprising, but was slowly becoming familiar.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to the sight of the largest house, nay it was a miniature castle, he had ever seen, and gaped for the third time in his short life.

The house had a large fountain in the middle of the cul-de-sac that was connected to the long gravel driveway. The doors to the house were large, but not as big as the ones at Gringotts. These were about ten feet tall with the Potter family crest above it, looking over the grounds. The front of the house was grey brick, this also giving the effect of a castle. Above the large windows beside the doors were two old fashioned balconies. Still above that were stone watch towers that protruded from the house/castle, even adorned with battlements. On the far edges of the building, there were tall green hedges that acted as a fence, and each went back behind the house, almost like it was a very large running track.

Harry reached for the door handle, but before he could grasp it, the doors were swinging wide for him, accepting him as the master of the establishment. What Harry saw as he entered astonished him also.

The space just behind the door opened into a wide entrance room, with a large and very intricate chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To the left and to the right there were large staircases that curved up and towards each other with large banisters that each had a large knob down on the floor level. Between the stairs were three doors, one on the far end near each of the staircases, and two more doors opposite the stairs across the balcony-hallway, which were on either side of another staircase. There were four more hallways, each pair directly opposite each other; up at the top of the first staircase and also on the ground level. The four main pathways were arranged like a compass rose; the door Harry entered through signified south, the larger door directly in front of him represented north and the two adjacent hallways symbolized east and west.

The floor at the entrance was a very impressive hard wood paneling and the stairs all had a deep crimson carpet, as did the hallways. The banisters were golden, along with the chandelier, and overall, the house gave off a quite regal look. The doors were of great quality also, and the doorknobs were in the shape of a lion's head.

And so, for the fourth time, Harry stood there, unblinking, and barely kept his jaw from reaching his chest.

"Harry, is you being all right?" Toby inquired. "Does you like your new homes?"

"It's more than fine, Toby, I'm just overwhelmed, that's all," he replied. "I think it looks amazing."

"If yous wants, I can be taking yous to the library, now," Toby suggested.

"OH, GAWD YES!-" Harry started to shout, but quickly stopped. "I mean," he began again, "that would be acceptable," he finished in a more formal tone.

Toby couldn't help but find this to be just about the most amusing thing he had ever seen, and accordingly let out a chuckle. "It is being up the first two sets of stairs and ins between the two doors. Just keep on going until yous reaches the larger doors of the library," Toby instructed.

"Thank you Toby," Harry replied. "I will call you if I require your fine services," he informed the elf, followed by a dip of his head.

"I will be coming as soon as yous call, Harry," he said, before disappearing with a crack.

Now that he was all alone, Harry let out a long sigh, as he still couldn't quite come to terms with his new home. It just seemed to be too wonderful to all his.

It was with these thoughts that he slowly climbed the stairs, gently running his hand along the golden railing, the smooth metal seeming to softly comfort him with its steady and constant company, one of the few things that remained; one of the few things he could count on besides, before leaving, the physical punishment he had endured at the Dursleys'.

The soft carpet of the stairs was slightly squishy, but nicely firm at the same time, and before he had even registered it, he had reached the top of the second stairwell. The hallway he was currently in was very different than the entrance room, by way of the fact that it had more of a castle-like feel to it. The walls were made from grey bricks like the outer wall of the house, and had flaming torches mounted up near the ceiling every few feet, giving the corridor a flickering effect every few seconds.

Harry just kept going as Toby had said. He saw doors to his left and right a few times, but the doors weren't large enough to be the doors to the library.

When he finally reached them, he felt a sort of longing, like it was coming from his very soul. He heard some words, which he could only describe as otherworldly. It had to be coming from something as significantly dissimilar to the world as the soul.

_Speak the words_, it said. _You know them_.

(1) "_Novissima autem inimica destruetur mors_," he rasped, as if his voice was not his own.

The large doors morphed before his eyes, changing to something completely different, and undoubtedly the contents of the room as well.

When Harry regained himself, he shook a bit to make sure he was still in control. When he was satisfied, he took one look at the door and stepped towards it. He knew not what awaited him, but he knew that he needed to find out.

He grasped the handle, and gently eased the door open. He stepped inside and closed the door quietly, his back to the rest of the room. Almost dreading the moment, he did an about face, and stared, thunderstruck, at two faces he had never expected to see.

* * *

Post Author's Notes:

(1) _Novissima autem inimica destruetur mors. _This is a Latin phrase meaning, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death". This was on Lily and James' headstone. (I used the Google Translator, so I don't really know accurate this is.)

I'm sorry this chapter took a while to write. I'm (sadly) back to school after the whole of last week off, and my schedule isn't exactly lending time to that much writing. My plan is to update on Fridays or sometime during the weekends, but I may have to keep from posting for a week or two if I get a week of butt-loads of homework. Hopefully that won't happen, but you never know. I'm really enjoying this, and you guys are really making it worthwhile for me through your helpful tips, respectful reviews, and supportive comments. I will always be ready to take constructive criticism along with writing tips, as I am very inexperienced. I haven't gotten any flames yet, which I consider a plus, and I've gotten about three thousand hits on the first two chapters, collectively (I don't know. Is that a lot?)

To T-Unit Mage— thank you for the writing tip. That will be very useful in the future. I will always be ready for more of your wisdom, as I am a bit of a writing noob.

To totallyobsessedmangaluvr—thank you for catching my attempt at some dry humor. I applaud you.

To Patrick S—I'm not trying to be disrespectful here, but why would a legally dead person be mentioned in a will? I don't know, maybe that just reflects on my inexperience with the legal world. Either way, I kind of think of Peter - in regards to his friendship with his fellow Marauders - as being the friend that you keep around to make fun of. He didn't seem to really fit in with James, Sirius, and Remus, at least from the impression I got from the books. Anyway, the Potters had their wills charmed to change in accordance with the allegiance they had to the people in said wills while still in a sound state of mind. Hope that clears things up for you.

Reviews are still appreciated, even if you only want to say who you think is in the room.

All right everyone, have a good weekend.

Peace,

Henry Baxendale


	4. Ghosts of Our Past

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 4 – Ghosts of Our Past

Disclaimer: Wait… wait… no, still not mine.

* * *

When Harry woke up on his ninth birthday at eight o' clock in the morning, he would have called you the most delusional, idiotic prat known to man. That is, if you would have said something along the lines of, "You're a wizard, Harry! You know all that stuff about magic and unnatural creatures that you've heard about and that everyone says is rubbish? Yeah, that's all real. Oh, and you're rich, to boot!"

His world had been shaken when he met Toby, it had been flipped upside down when they went to Gringotts that morning, it had been rocked when they had arrived at Potter Manor, and it was now about to be shattered.

Harry continued to stare in disbelief at the portrait on the wall across the room from him. He shakily closed the distance between him and the expertly painted canvass, and stopped in front of them. To his further disbelief, the two people in said portrait started to move. He blinked a few times and then continued to gawk at them, while they seemed to be in the same state of transfixion as he was.

Harry swallowed loudly. "Mum? Dad?"

The red haired woman answered. "Yes, Harry, it's us."

"Really?"

The black haired man with glasses replied this time. "Yes, Harry, it's really us. Though, if you are here, then we are dead, I suppose."

"Then how are you in the painting?" Harry asked. He was a bit dumbfounded.

"It's one of the wonders of magic," Lily replied. "Paintings and pictures can be imbued with magic. After this is accomplished, the people depicted can move around inside the image and even travel between identical copies, in the case of portraits."

"Oh, that _does_ sound amazing," Harry replied. "But, what is this place and how did I get here?"

"This room is known as The Portrait Room, here at the Potter Manor," James answered. "The question of how can be more easily answered by my brilliant wife."

Harry turned to her and she began the explanation. "Just before you were born, I started dabbling in a new, but still old branch of magic. It was new in the sense that I had just recently realized its abilities, though it was old as it was all around us. I called it Soul Magic." She paused, and then continued. "The offensive magics that fall into this category are known as the Unforgivable Curses. These curses each have one use. The Imperius Curse gives you control not only of a person's mind, but also of the soul. The Cruciatus Curse allows you to torture the very spirit of a person, which is why it is so traumatic for the recipient. Finally, the Killing Curse separates the soul from the body; in others words: causes instant death. Together, they can Control, Torture, and Release the soul. Being caught after using any one of these will land you a lifetime stay in Azkaban prison.

"I also found the defensive magic, though some would not call it magic, which fell into this category, or frequency, as I like to call it. What I discovered was love. I used the defensive magic to protect you after we died. My sacrifice ensured your safety and has protected you thus far. Along with all that, I uncovered the ability to make magic transcend its normal frequency, and act in another branch of magic. The only thing I was able to discover with this ability was using a shield, by use of the incantation _Protego_, to act in the frequency of Soul Magic in order to block the Unforgivables, as they are unable to be defended against by a regular shield. Unfortunately, I was not able to use this ability when we were attacked at Godric's Hollow, so instead I used the sacrifice."

"Why were you in such an insecure place?" Harry inquired. Whatever reason they had, he didn't think it would be very plausible.

"We trusted Dumbledore, as he had suggested going there," James answered. "It was under the Fidelius Charm, which in and of itself is a virtually invincible defense, as long as the right person is chosen as the Secret Keeper."

"Unfortunately, we chose wrong," Lily finished. "Peter Pettigrew replaced Sirius Black as our Secret Keeper, as we thought that he would be a less obvious choice."

"However," James continued, "we did not know that he was a follower of Voldemort, normally called Death Eaters. He betrayed us, and here we are."

"Toby is the only elf that is able to enter this room," Lily said, "and he has informed us of what has been happening in the world, as we are portraits and can't really talk to anyone except the elves."

James continued. "We were told what happened to Sirius, and he should not be in Azkaban. He was said to be the one to who betrayed us to our deaths, but he was falsely accused, as he was not the Keeper."

"I was wondering what heinous act he had committed that a goblin wouldn't tell me what he did," Harry admitted. "Although it is comforting that the person you put in your wills to be my guardian to not be the criminal he was portrayed as."

"I can see by your vocabulary that you get your most of your personality from your mother, just as you get most of your good looks from me," joked his father.

"And I can see by your attitude the reason why I didn't go out with you to begin with," Lily threw back playfully.

"It's a good thing I got just the good qualities from both of you then," Harry finished, earning a look from James, which he took with a smirk, before getting back to business. "So, how does the rest of the story go? How was I able to get here?"

"In case we died, I implanted memories in your mind, which I could add to remotely," Lily informed him. "The only memories I had time to give were of that night, and I also gave you the ability to enter this room, an ability which is tied to your soul, and you are now the only one able to apparate into this house and property, aside from Toby and other house elves. You and Toby are also the only ones able to apparate or portkey directly to this room, or even access it through the door, unless you bring someone else with you. But enough about us, Harry, we want to hear about you."

"Yes," James agreed. "Give us the details," he said, not knowing what he was getting into.

Harry went over his life up until this point; his life with the Dursleys, his dream, his flights to the library – during which James gave Lily a smirking look –, No. 19 and the month of solitude, Toby's appearance, the trip to Gringotts, and finally his impression of the Potter Manor and his trip to the library, which was cut off by this particular visit.

The first part of the story invoked a righteous anger in them, curiosity for the second, bitter amusement for the third, a mixture of happiness and empathy in regards to No. 19, satisfaction next, astonishment for what they didn't know about the episode at Gringotts, and pure amusement lastly, followed by delight from Lily and a groan from James.

The anger could be seen quite clearly on their faces, but they quickly covered it.

"That dream must have come from the memories I gave you," Lily observed. "It's a good thing you received my studious nature," (James snorted at this) "so we won't have to worry about your grades when you go to Hogwarts."

"Don't forget to pull pranks every once in a while, though," James admonished. "It's always good to know when to take a break."

"I guess it's a good thing you found No. 19," Lily said. "We created it ourselves, and it's a very good place to keep away from everyone, although it's perplexing as to how you were able to apparate through the wards."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the frequencies of magic?" Harry asked, as he himself was still puzzled.

"That may be," his mother replied, before adopting a thoughtful look. "Yes, that seems to be the only explanation… which means that you could probably apparate through any set of wards, even Hogwarts' defenses." They all looked bewildered at this statement, even if it was most likely true.

"Well, you seem to be a natural at Apparition, so you should probably go get your License soon, even if the wards around this house prevent them from detecting any kind of magic," his father stated. "We don't want the Ministry impeding the most convenient form of travel you have and keep you dependent on house elves. Normally you'd only be able to get it when you turn seventeen, but I think the Potter family's clout can get past that, along with keeping it quiet."

They soon began pondering the events at Gringotts, which were the most mystifying of all. The concept of having a potentially life threatening _thing_ anchored in his scar did not seem to be very reassuring. The episode involving the block was disturbing as well; he should never have been sent to the Dursleys.

Both adults had tears of sadness for Harry and of anger for the Dursleys in their eyes.

"We're so sorry for what happened to you, Harry," James said for both of them.

"If we'd have known that you would be sent to the Dursleys against our wishes, we would have had the block removed," Lily assured him.

"We knew that the block would keep Toby from you," James admitted, "but we honestly didn't think that you would even need him."

"It's alright, I forgive you; you didn't know," Harry replied. "Dumbledore is the one who did this."

"You're right, Harry," Lily said, a curious look gracing her features.

"Personally, I've trusted Dumbledore for years," James said. "I'm not sure that I trust him that much anymore, though."

"I'd like to think that he's just an old man who made a mistake," Lily replied, "but it seems that he's made several involving us." She looked pained at the thought of losing one of her good friends. "I think you'll have to keep an eye on him, as he is sure to be watching you. Be careful of what you tell him, too."

"Alright, Mum," he agreed, and he was happy to be able to call someone that.

"Seeing as it's almost one o' clock," Lily said, "you should probably head to the kitchens and ask Toby for some lunch. Then you can actually go to the library."

Harry's eyes lit up at this, but before a discussion that could hurt his brain, or lack thereof, James told Harry that he could come and talk to them at any time that he wished, as they were portraits and gained nothing by sleeping.

On that note, Harry bade them goodbye for now, and headed out of the room, headed for the kitchen, and the door morphed back into the library entrance behind him. He made his way through the hallway again, passing by the ever flickering torches, went down the many stairs and reached the balcony-hallway before realizing that he didn't actually know where the kitchen was. With a single "Toby" the grey elf appeared at his side with the customary pop, a straight back, and a hand on his forehead in salute.

"You is calling Toby?"

"Yes," Harry responded, "I forgot to ask where the kitchen was in my excitement. Could you please direct me to it?"

"It is being the door to the lefts of the big door on the ground floors, through the dining room, and in through the door in the back," the elf answered. "I could be getting yous some foods if yous wanted," he continued.

"No, no, it's quite alright," Harry replied. "I need you to find me a book containing instructions on the proper way to apparate. I'd prefer not to walk all the way to and from the library and the kitchen all the time. It would be good to learn some kind of magic soon, anyways."

"Yes, yes, right aways," the elf said.

Harry just shook his head at the elf's eagerness and went down the banister staircase to the ground floor and took the left hand door.

The kitchen was nothing short of amazing. The room was exponentially more extravagant, and yet still practical, than any kitchen he had ever seen (i.e. the Dursleys' kitchen). The floor was a polished tile that covered the entire room. Across from him was a fireplace with a cauldron hanging above the coals. Stretching along the walls was a long counter, only broken by the sink, a refrigerator, and an oven, with cupboards on the floor below the counter, and more on top that touched the ceiling. In the center of the room was an island with stools around it. In short, it was a cook's dream kitchen come to life.

Harry immediately got to work and set off to the fridge. He opened it up and got everything out that he needed, which was plenty because he recently discovered that he was starving. He hadn't eaten all day yet, and it was already one in the afternoon.

After fifteen minutes of eating, accompanied by the bitter taste that he would have to get used to (courtesy of the potions he had to take), he was full. Just as he was putting the dishes he had used into the sink, he heard a pop, and Toby appeared behind him.

"I is having the book yous asked for, Harry," Toby informed him, and handed it to him.

"Thanks, Toby," Harry replied, taking the volume in hand.

"I is being an expert at fixing people," the elf said. "If yous be wanting to try apparating, I can be fixing yous if you be splinching yourself, instead of asking the Ministry."

"Splinching?" Harry asked.

"It is being when yous be leaving behind part of your body when yous be apparating," Toby replied.

"Alright," Harry said. He took a seat at the island and started reading the book.

_A Step by Step Apparition Guide_, by Emeric Switch was on the front of the book, with a picture of a person apparating back and forth between the hoop on the floor and the space next to it. Harry read through the book with relative ease, and asked Toby for information on anything he didn't understand or was new to him. After he finished the book (it was pretty short), he went over the basics he had learned. The three D's, Determination, Destination, and Deliberation, were the key to Apparition. "One must be completely _determined_ to reach one's _destination_, and move without haste, but with _deliberation_," the book said.

"Okay, Toby, I'm going to try to apparate to that corner," Harry said, and pointed to the corner he meant. "Get ready in case I splinch myself."

He then closed his eyes, and on a whim, a wisp of hope, really, he reached for his magical core. He was so surprised when he could actually feel it that he jumped a little, opened his eyes, and a burst of orange flame exploded from his palm. Dismissing it with a shake of his head, he quickly said sorry to Toby, who looked slightly fearful. He closed his eyes again, and reached inside. Visualizing the room, he focused his mind on the corner that he had spoken of. When he had it perfectly, he went to turn on the spot, but before he had even started, he had the weirdest feeling that he ever experienced. He felt a tingling in his whole being; warmth spread through his entire body. He felt like he had suddenly become a gas and filled the whole room. After less than a second, he felt himself knit together again at the place of interest. All this happened without a sound.

Harry opened his eyes again, and Toby looked shocked. His eyes were wide with admiration and respect, and he had praise on his lips.

"Harry, you is being a natural!" the elf exclaimed.

"Wow, I was not expecting that," Harry thought out loud. "I thought there was supposed to be some sort of sound that accompanied the Apparition, and also; isn't it supposed to feel like I was being squeezed to death and all cold?"

If Toby could look even more shocked, he had just done so. "That is being very unnatural," he replied after he could speak again. "I don't knows why that has happened."

"Well, I'll go research it in the library," Harry said. "I'll call you if I need anything."

With that, he focused on the door in front of the library and disapparated, bringing the book along with him. Still with no sound, he appeared in front of the door again, and was finally able to admire the ornate double doors to the library. The front of the door had the Potter family crest, and had many raised lines over the wood.

He reached out for one of the handles, half expecting them to swing open, but nothing happened, creating an anticlimactic effect. Once the door was open, he took his first look at the library, and gaped once again at the true climax.

In front of him were several shelves of books, their ends facing him. The two in the center were spaced farther than from the ones on the other sides, creating an inviting row. He walked down the middle row towards a desk that had a piece of paper on it. At the top of the paper, it informed him that all he needed to do was to write down the title of a book, or a subject of a book, and it would bring the selected volume to him, or provide a list of books on the specified subject, respectively.

Leaving it be for now, he looked off to his right and left of the desk and saw the short staircases to the upper level. Following the stairs, he came up to the second level and saw a large fireplace that was opposite the large couch that was flanked by large cushy chairs, creating a semicircle of relaxation. Running along the walls next to the fireplace were tall shelves of more books, complete with a sliding ladder to reach the loftier titles.

Harry took one look at the couch and suddenly ran for it, landing on the soft sofa. His eyes widened, and his head popped up and he frantically looked around, seeing if anyone was there to observe his display. Thankfully, he saw no one, so he lowered his head and relaxed for a few minutes.

When he was satisfied, he got up and went back down to the desk. He reached for the quill that dipped inside the inkwell, and scribbled _Apparition_ on the parchment. The ink promptly spread out over the page, tendrils reaching out across the paper like long spider legs, as if it were searching the library. About five seconds later, it came up with about a dozen titles. As he was impartial to any title, he just put an "X" next to the first book on the list. When he lifted the quill, he heard a whooshing sound, and a book appeared next to the paper. Harry then took grabbed the paper and a pen out of the desk, as a quill would be impractical on the couch, which was where he was going.

Harry searched and searched for about three hours, and went through all of the books on the list. He was still puzzled, but decided to leave it for another day. Instead, he asked the parchment for a list of books on magical theory and performance. Deciding to take a chance, as there were about two dozen books on the list, he asked the paper if it had a recommendation. Luckily, it responded, and chose the most acclaimed and comprehensive book for him. The book outlined the major theories of magic, and went over the importance of correct wand movements and pronunciation of spells. _Be careful, or you might end up with a buffalo on your chest_, it said, as that was an infamous disaster that stemmed from a mispronunciation.

After about two more hours of that, he placed the book down and dismissed it. Almost as if reading his mind, Toby appeared in front of him, and actually, for the most part, failed to startle Harry, as he was starting to get used to it.

"Smoky, the chef-elf, has just finished dinner, and wes are ready for you now," Toby said, and a growl emanated from the pit of the young boy's stomach in response.

"Cool. Let's eat," he replied, eager to sate the conversationalist within his belly, and quickly apparated to the kitchen.

He was immediately greeted by an immensely delicious smell, and also by an elf that was a darker grey than Toby, true to his name.

"Hello, Harry Potter!" he greeted excitedly. "I is being Smoky, the chef!"

"Hullo, Smoky, it's nice to meet you," Harry replied. "What's for dinner?"

"We's be having spaghettis."

"Well, it smells delicious!" Harry praised.

"Thank you, sir, it is being one of my specialties," the elf answered.

After insisting that Toby and Smoky stay and eat with him, they both reacted with a cry of how they weren't worthy of the greatness of Harry Potter, but eventually relented and ate with him, still slightly sniffling all throughout the meal. Harry took the potion again, and turned his nose up in disgust at the taste, as it still hadn't gotten any better.

When they had finished the meal, Harry went to take his dishes to the sink as he had done at lunch, but Smoky insisted that he could take care of everything. Harry decided to let him do it, as it looked as if he could not be dissuaded this time.

Harry decided to explore at least some of the rest of the house before he went to speak to his parents' portraits again. It was during this trip that he discovered the indoor pool that was off in the west wing a ways. He also found an a room that was down the hall through the middle door on the ground floor of the entrance hall that was a lot larger on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside. Within the room, he saw a large grass field with some peculiar posts with three hoops. Up against the wall to his left and right were some brooms, but he thought that this was an interesting place to have a supply closet. Taking it all in, he decided to ask Toby or his parents about it at another time.

After discovering about fifteen guest rooms (there were probably even more), he decided to apparate back to the Portrait Room. His parents were slightly startled at his silent entrance, as it was very uncommon even for a fully grown wizard to apparate without a sound, much less a nine year old.

When they shook themselves alert again they finally said something. "Welcome back, Harry," they chorused.

"Hey," he replied.

"You look puzzled," Lily said.

"Yeah," Harry responded. "I'm just troubled by the fact that I can apparate in silence, reach my magical core without even meditating, and a burst of flame jumped out of my hand after I did so."

"I can see why that would be perplexing," his father answered.

"Only a handful of people that I know _of_ can achieve that feat," Lily offered.

"So it's either a very rare gift," Harry deduced, "or it requires a lot of magical energy."

"Well," his mother replied, "is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"I want to know about you guys," he responded. "I want to know you."

"It's a bit of a tale," James replied.

"I still have a few hours," Harry countered, "and we don't have to hear the whole thing tonight."

And so, Harry started to learn about his parents. He learned about his father's unrequited love for Lily from early on, and his persistency and change of attitude during their later years at Hogwarts. He was also told of the Marauders - James' group of friends - their pranks, their plans, and the origins of their friendship. Lupin's "furry little problem" was revealed as being a case of lycanthropy, and he had almost killed another student when Sirius convinced him to go to the place where he was transforming. James also told him about how they eventually decided to help him: by becoming Animagi. They found the animal inside of themselves and obtained the ability to transform into said animal, and accompanied Remus into the Forbidden Forest when he needed to transform.

It was at this point that they stopped.

"You have our trunks, right?" his father inquired.

"Yes. Why?" Harry replied just as inquisitively.

"When you have some time," Lily answered, "have Toby resize them in your room, and take a look at our journals. James has detailed steps and procedures for Animagus training, an ability we both agree that you should learn and find useful, and Transfiguration tips and tricks. I, on the other hand, have thorough information on magic in its entirety, along with theories I have about Soul Magic, and magical frequencies. I also have directions for Charms, Potions, and Occlumency, which you should also learn."

"Alright," he said. "Thank you for answering all my questions." Harry reached forward to touch the canvass, longing for just one touch from them, and softly feathered his fingers over the portrait. "Good night," he called over his shoulder after turning around, and then disapparated when he heard it repeated.

Harry reappeared in the center of the entrance hall, and immediately called for Toby. When he heard the familiar pop, he began speaking to the elf.

"Toby," he began, "I was wondering where my bedroom was."

"It is being up through the hallways on the way to the library," the elf answered. "You can be choosing any of the rooms there."

"Thank you Toby," he replied. "I'll be calling you when I pick a room as I would like you to resize the trunks I have in my pocket."

With that, they both nodded to each other, and disapparated; Toby to wherever he was needed, and Harry to the hallway leading to the library.

When Harry reappeared again, he immediately started looking several of the rooms in the hallway, inspecting each one he came across. Eventually, he took a room close to the library, which, if you knew him, was quite foreseeable. The room itself was not overly lavish, as Harry didn't really enjoy such things very much, which showed his humbleness. The room had a four-poster bed that was straight across from the door, and was a mixture of crimson-red bedding and gold drapes. The floor was carpet, and the wallpaper had an interesting pattern. There was a dark brown wooden nightstand next to the bed with a window over it, a dresser on the wall of the same side, and a desk next and bookshelf on the wall on the other side. The ceiling was the most intriguing aspect of all. It looked like all the stars and the moon were painted on the ceiling, with stray clouds gliding across the scene. He would later learn that it was enchanted in exactly the same way as the Great Hall at Hogwarts. All in all, Harry enjoyed the setup.

When he had chosen, he called for Toby as he said he would, and had him resize the trunks upon his asking. With a promise to call if at any time he required anything, he said farewell until morning, which the elf mimicked heartily.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand and stifling a yawn, he discovered that he was tired and it was almost ten thirty. Deciding that his parents' journals could wait until morning, he hopped into bed, and with a thought, as Toby had directed, the lights went out.

* * *

A/N: I am really truly sorry that I am so late updating. I was swamped with work, I hit my first bump in the road, was out of town, and I got sick. Yeah, great times are (hopefully) behind me now.

I might be switching my updates to Wednesdays, now, maybe. Either that, or I'll just be completely sporadic and random.

I hope you enjoy my magical theory with tier jumping, as it's completely my own. Yeah, that's right, it's mine.

Yeah, well I think I'll just generalize the thank you messages now.

THANKS EVERYONE!

Alright, now that that's out of the way, reviews make me smile!

Henry Baxendale


	5. Old Friends

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 5 – Old Friends

A/N: WHOOO! 12,000 hits! That is all.

Disclaimer: Yeah… no. Never have, never will.

* * *

I would like to do one of those recap things as a refresher:

Chapter 1—A New Life

Harry and his home life are introduced. The beatings are catalogued (with slight vagueness) and his flights to books are mentioned. No. 19 is discovered and Harry is kicked out of the Dursley home. Harry apparates to No. 19 as the wards around No. 4 drop. Harry stays at No. 19 for the next month, and at some point, the Dursleys' house is attacked and destroyed, killing them (more later). It is on the morn of Harry's ninth birthday that he meets Toby, one of the Potter Family House Elves.

Chapter 2—Inheritance

Harry awakes from his fainting spell and Toby explains some of the Wizarding World to him. The claims that they need to go to Gringotts Back for his inheritance lead them there. Harry claims lordship over the House of Potter and is emancipated. He takes his parents' trunks from the Trust Vault, and is taken to the Cleansing Chamber, where he falls asleep during the Cleansing Ceremony.

Chapter 3—Meditation, A Wand, and Unexpected Faces

Harry wakes up and Darkfang explains Harry's problems. The block on his magic is unstable, and the Horcrux is discovered. Darkfang begins to teach him to meditate after explaining about blocks and magical cores, after which he receives potions to fix his physical state. After that, Toby and Harry leave Gringotts to go to Ollivander's Wand Shop. Harry receives his wand, along with friendly acquaintance. They then go to Potter Manor, where Harry eagerly goes to look in the library. Along the way, though, he goes into a trance-like state, and he enters the now-shifted library. It turns out to be the Portrait Room, where he meets two people in Portrait.

Chapter 4—Ghosts of Our Past

The Portraits turn out to be Harry's dead parents. He speaks to them for a while, then leaves to eat lunch. Afterwards, he learns how to Apparate. He quickly discovers his affinity for it, and is slightly puzzled by the (even) strange(r) things happening to him. He researches this for a while and then has dinner with Toby and Smoky, the chef-elf. He then explores the house some, finding an indoor swimming pool, an enlarged room with a miniature Quidditch Pitch, and then he heads off to bed.

* * *

Harry awoke with the weirdest sensation. He felt like he had no idea where he was and the whole world as he knew it had changed. That might have been because it had, but he had hardly seen anything yet. After it had passed and he became aware of his surroundings and where he was, he became very happy. As far as he knew, his life had changed for the better, and he finally was able to have something with some sort of semblance to parents.

Thankfully, his parents still had friends that were alive, even if one of them was in prison, and he hoped to meet one of them, and soon. Then they could brainstorm ways to get Sirius released. As he sat there at eight in the morning, he pondered his life. Remembering his now everyday regimen that he had not been able to perform yesterday, he shot out of bed and retrieved a shirt and shorts from the dresser off to his right, hastily putting the clothes on.

As he was lacing his shoes, he decided that he would generally apparate during the evenings, as he would use the mornings for exercise. When he finished tying the trainers, he jumped off the bed, walked to the door, and entered the hallway. He padded along silently until he reached the entrance hall, making his way to the kitchen for a light snack before he went out to run. The tall doors closed behind him after he exited the house.

He examined the hedges again, and they really were shaped around the house like a large track, although it was slightly square. The whole track was gravel and dirt, and extended all the way around the house, stretching for about half a mile. On the complete opposite side of the house, Harry found an elegant garden. It looked like a stereotypical Japanese Garden, with little bridges spanning miniature rivers, along with bonsai trees in addition to regular-sized ones. After admiring the garden for a little while, he headed off to finish his run. He also discovered that to the east and west was entrances to a picturesque forest.

After his run, he entered the west wing again. He had been told that there was a weight room in the back of the pool room, and he wanted to use it, even if he wasn't going to use the actual weights, yet. After about a half an hour of pushups and sit-ups, among other cardio activities (which he read about in a book), he headed back to the kitchen to have the first proper breakfast he could remember. After he popped the last piece of bacon into his mouth and downed his potion, Smoky appeared next to him with an indignant look on his face. He chased him out of the kitchen (only after making sure that he had eaten all that he wanted) and made sure that Harry would call him if he needed food.

Chuckling at Smoky's antics, he then decided to head back up to take a shower in the bathroom across the hallway from his room. After that, he would then start reading his parent's journals. The shower restored and revitalized him more than usual, which made him think that the water was enchanted in some way. He crossed the hallway to his room, admiring the wispy clouds that were displayed on the ceiling.

Deciding to take out his mother's diary first, he began to read about magical theory. Because he was reading it in his mother's words, it seemed a lot easier to understand. He soon began learning the laws of magic, and also memorized some basic charms like _Winguardium Leviosa. _He began to read about Occlumency, but he recalled that he wouldn't be able to practice, perform, or utilize it very effectively while the block was still in place. He then did a classic head smack as he just remembered that he hadn't tried meditating again yet.

Putting aside the journal for now, he sat cross-legged like he was instructed. He then folded his hands and began to clear his mind. After a few minutes, he began to slowly let go of his thoughts, which would have surprised him if he wasn't as relaxed as he was. When he had completely emptied his mind, he then began to focus on his fingers and toes as Darkfang had bade him. Slowly, he began to hear a quiet roaring sound that seemed to emanate from the depths of his mind, steadily on a crescendo, along with the tingling sensation described by the goblin.

Following the tingling sensation, it suddenly seemed to follow his veins and nerves, spreading the feeling, and seemed to fill each vein, artery, and nerve with warmth; a lively fire that could not easily be extinguished. He steadily moved his mind up his body, starting with his left arm. When he reached his armpit, he suddenly felt the roar explode into a strong forte, and the tingling numbness went crazy. The onslaught to the senses made it extremely hard to continue, which stopped his progress for the day.

He then lay back on the floor, satisfied with his improvement, although slightly puzzled. It seemed that it was a whole lot easier to clear his mind after his first Apparition. He decided to talk to Darkfang about it during his next visit to Gringotts.

The clock on his nightstand said that it was almost noon, so he headed down to the kitchen again. Seeing as Smoky was in said room, he didn't need to call him. After a decent meal consisting of a large sandwich, some crisps, and some fruit, he thanked Smoky for the excellent meal. The elf replied for him to have a good day, and Harry exited the room.

Harry then headed up to the Portrait room, repeating the password like he had the first time. He entered the room and stopped in front of the portraits as usual, and watched as they came to life. He greeted them with a smile.

"Morning!"

"Good morning, Harry!" they replied enthusiastically.

"Something on your mind?" Lily asked, as his face told it all.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm just still puzzled by my strange abilities. Another thing: I want to contact Remus Lupin soon; I'd like to meet him, and we all need to get together to figure out how to free Sirius and correct this travesty of justice."

"I agree," James answered. "We can just send Toby to him, and have him here by one o' clock."

"Great!" Harry acknowledged. "Why don't we do just that?"

"TOBY!" they all called at once.

The familiar pop resounded and Toby looked at everyone expectantly. They relayed their plan to him, and he happily complied with their wishes. While they waited, Lily and James had Harry do some simple charms and transfiguration, instructing him as needed. He was actually able to levitate one of the chairs in the room a couple inches and only for a few seconds and make a matchstick slightly pointed. They all figured that it would work a whole lot better when he was able to remove the block.

After about a half an hour of practicing magic, Toby reappeared in the room and told them that he had dropped Remus off in front of the house, explaining that Harry had to "let him in on the secret", and detailing how to let him see the house.

So Harry headed down to the ground floor, to the entrance hall, specifically. Each step he took was like water slowly filling a bucket; the water symbolizing his anticipation, slowly feeding his nerves and making them act up. He didn't know what to expect of this man, and simply hoped that he was a nice person. He didn't want to deal with people like the Dursleys ever again.

When he finally reached the front door, his anxiety was at its peak; waiting for the climax. He slowly reached out and grasped the door handle, his hand slightly shaking. He pulled the door wide to see a man waiting there. His clothes were shabby, like he didn't have very much money, and his face had a worn look to it, with a couple scars of his own; also covered with quite a bit more than stubble. His hair was sandy-blonde, and slightly grizzled, making him look older than he really was. Even with all these features, he still looked kind, even if it was obvious that he had seen and experienced a lot more than he had wanted to in his lifetime. Harry simply looked at him, comprehension slowly dawning on him. He vaguely remembered this man, though he was a lot happier back when he had first met him.

Harry spoke first. "Are you Remus Lupin?" he asked.

The man merely nodded, and looked to be holding back tears. "Harry?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," he answered quietly, then added, "Uncle Moony," quieter still.

His eyes widened with a mixture of happiness, and a little sadness. "You remember me?" he inquired.

"Vaguely," Harry replied, "but I remember enough."

It was then that he did something Remus didn't expect. He walked forward, buried his face into his surrogate uncle's stomach, and wrapped his arms around the man's legs, an unseen smile on his face, with happy tears. Remus just patted his back for a few seconds, before he decided to do better. He bent down on his knees and properly hugged him and admitting him into his pack, as far as his instincts and feelings went. (1) And the wolf pack was doubled.

"I never thought I'd be able to see you again," Remus told him. "Dumbledore wouldn't let me see you."

"It's alright, Moony, but we should go inside, now." He then handed him a piece of parchment with the address of the house on it, causing it to appear before the werewolf's eyes.

"Alright, Harry," he replied, but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy. "You look so much like your father, you wouldn't believe it. Except for your eyes; those are Lily's."

"I know," Harry replied, and Remus' face scrunched up, begging the question, which Harry downplayed for the moment. "I'll show you in a minute," he answered.

With that, Harry led his honorary uncle through the front door and into the entrance hall, bringing a surprised look to the older man's face.

"What?" Harry asked. "Have you never been here before?"

"James did flaunt quite a bit when he was younger," he replied, "but he never bragged about money. I've only been to a couple of their cottages and smaller homes."

Leaving questions for later, Harry guided Remus up the first two staircases and into the torchlight hallway. They wound their way through the stony passage, making their way to the library doors. When they reached them, Harry repeated the password from last night, making his uncle's eyebrows lift a little in surprise.

When they finally entered the room and Remus saw the portraits, more specifically the people in them, his eyes filled with tears again, his heart filling with compassion for the young boy next to him. He now realized that Harry could only look at what was never his to remember, doomed to forever stare at, but not touch, what he was missing.

_Parents._

_Family._

This was his curse; to gaze at his desire, and not be able to grasp it; to reach for the goal, and miss it by a hair's breadth. It was intangible; void of substance, but maybe, just maybe, he could give him some of what he was missing. It would be a hard task, but he silently vowed to do the best he could to give him the only thing he ever wanted: someone he could love, and someone who could love him back.

(2) They were not so different, Remus and Harry. Each of them was ostracized members of the world they lived in. Remus: the magical world because of stereotypes and grudges held by those who had nothing to fear from the commonplace, tame werewolf. Even the Ministry punished the whole on part of the few with their own type of racism, just because Fenrir Greyback and his followers were evil werewolves, and they themselves would be the only ones to resist the Ministry's attempts at controlling them. The good people would suffer prejudice, while the evil would escape the justice they truly deserved, which was brought about because of them.

Harry was separated from the ordinary world because of his gifts, and it was only because of the few that he was separated. Those who feared him brought and cut him down, nearly snuffing out the flame of his life in the process. Harry, left to his own devices, would not be a threat to anyone; it just wasn't in his character. He was a good person, just like everyone else. Only the evil had anything to fear from him. That was the only time he would be as dangerous as others thought him to be. Others that didn't know about him would live in blissful ignorance, free to live without fear. Harry had no problem with these people! If they accepted Harry, he would do the same for them, and all would be well. But once again, he had to suffer on part of the few: his relatives and bullies. Harry made his own silent promise long ago; to stand up on part of the oppressed, and not to back down from the people who would look to take advantage of those who were less fortunate than themselves. He would stand for those who were too weak to stand for themselves; guard those who were ridiculed because he knew what it was like, and (God help him!) he would do everything in his power to destroy any injustices he knew of, and put pompous fools in their place. _That_ was who he was, and _that_ is was he would do, not because he looked for recognition, or because he liked being famous, as those he had met so far said he was, but because he was not going to be like his relatives, and he would not stand for those who would act like them.(2)

As they stood there in silent contemplation, Lily and James stirred in their portraits, and saw Remus, their old friend. They were elated when they saw him, as he was the first of their old friends left that was still alive that they had seen, not incarcerated or living in a fake death, licking the boots of their enemies, waiting for the opportune time to come out of hiding, to help the Dark Lord rise again.

"Remus," they said together, "it's so good to see you!"

"Lily, James," he spoke each of their names in turn, shifting his head and gaze accordingly.

"How've you been, Moony?" James asked his old friend.

"Oh, I've been doing fine, Prongs," he answered. "I was alerted that each of your wills was enacted, and I was shocked by your gifts to me."

"We just thought you could put it to good use," Lily replied. "We wouldn't have been able to stand it if you had to live in poverty and without funds for your research."

"I thank you just the same, though" Remus said, somewhat begrudgingly.

"I imagine you're wondering as to why you're here," Harry said, officially voicing Remus' thoughts.

"Yes," he admitted. "The thought had crossed my mind a few times."

"Well," James said, "in answer: we wanted you here to help us free Sirius."

The change was instant. Remus' face scrunched up in anger, making him look more like an animal than man. His face turned slightly red, and he took short ragged breaths, trying to suppress the animal inside. When he had finally gained control, he asked his question, all the while trying to refrain from using certain words that were on the tip of his tongue.

"Why the _hell_," he growled, "do you want him out of Azkaban?"

"In answer: he is innocent," Lily proclaimed.

Remus was taken aback. "W-wh-what?"

"It's true, Moony," James replied. "(3) He was never our Secret Keeper. We secretly chose Peter instead, because we thought that Sirius would be an obvious choice."

The werewolf lifted his hands to his face, and staggered back into one of the chairs in the room. He felt so sorry for doubting Sirius all these years. He had acted like everyone else in the world; he jumped to a conclusion like the people who imprisoned Sirius; he assumed like everyone else when the verdict came. He had even hated the man. But now that the truth was known to him, he would do all that he could to help him find true justice.

"The other reason," Lily continued, "was that we wanted you and Harry to meet, so that you could be a part of his life now that we are gone. And hopefully," she added, "with Sirius around, you two can give him somewhat of a childhood, because we all know that you're both still in your own."

"What?" he asked, faking that he was shocked. "You wound me, you really do."

"Oh, get over it," Lily replied. "You're the more mature one, anyways."

Remus closed his fist in front of his face and lifted his eyes skyward. "Yes," he whispered, mocking her.

James interrupted their friendly teasing session. "Alright," he said, "how are we going to do this?"

This one question set off the tennis match of brainstorming between Remus and Lily. They knew the legal system the best (and they were the smartest, but James would never tell Moony that). After a couple of minutes, and the vehemently rejected idea of storming Azkaban to rescue him, (courtesy of James) "It was a joke!" he said. "I swear!" Remus and Lily finally came up with a plan.

They would ask the goblins for help, since they believed him innocent as well. Remus by himself would most likely fail, given his condition. If they could convince them to demand a trial for Sirius (along with using the Potter Family clout), then they would undoubtedly use Veritaserum to validate his claims, and then he would be set free, as he hadn't done anything illegal or inhumane.

"Alright," Harry said, "I guess we just need to pay a visit to the goblins then." Remus responded with a nod. "Mind if I go with you, Remus? I need to talk to them also."

"No, but do you mind if I ask why?" he asked right back.

Harry then filled him in with the details of his life threatening condition. The happenings that led to this aroused a righteous anger in the wolf-man, just as it had for his parents. By the end of the tale, he was seething in anger, and if they weren't already dead, he might have made them that way as soon as he could.

"Alright, Harry," Remus said once he calmed down enough to speak. "We should probably leave as soon as possible."

"That would be wise," Harry responded. The sooner they got Sirius out, the better for his sanity, or what would be left of it from the tenants of Azkaban.

Harry, deciding to wait to throw Remus for the loop of his Apparition abilities until later, called Toby, who then popped them just outside the front door.

"Can you apparate us to Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"I would be glad to," Remus replied.

He then took Harry's arm, and with a flourish of his coat, they were gone.

* * *

When they reappeared in front of the large white building known to everyone as the bank, Harry decided that he would tell Remus soon after they got back to Potter Manor about his ability to apparate, as the (normal) wizard form of Apparition was several times more unpleasant than the elf kind. He felt cold, like he went through a large vacuum, and had been squished to an infinitesimally small space, all while retaining his original mass. When they reappeared, he felt his ears ringing, and his eyes took in everything, very slowly adjusting to the light again, as when they apparated, it was an infinitely dark and gloomy place.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he looked at Remus, whose face had a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"First time?" he simply asked.

"With a wizard," Harry replied. "Popping is more pleasant."

With an amused huff and half a smirk, Remus led Harry into Gringotts, giving him support as needed. Both of them found it slightly funny when Harry started to tip over, causing Remus to nearly jump to catch him. It was in this moment that Harry began to feel immensely comfortable in his uncle's presence, and he knew that Moony would do anything to help him and would never let him fall; literally or figuratively.

When they separated, Harry began to feel a way he had never felt before. Was it abandonment? Shrugging it off, he went to go see Darkfang, passing by Griphook's office along the way.

Harry entered the coliseum area for the second time in his life, and unknowingly, was one of the few to actually do so. Most people never even knew that this room existed, and fewer yet had actually been in it, let alone twice. Seeing Darkfang, he quickened his pace until he was close to him, and stopped in front of the goblin.

"Head goblin Priest, Darkfang," he greeted.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he replied. "I imagined that I'd be seeing you soon, though this is quite a bit earlier than I expected. To be frank with you, of course."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "I made quite a bit of progress this morning. I followed my magic through my arm, up to my armpit, but I wasn't able to go any farther than that."

"Ah, yes," Darkfang replied, "I thought that that was the case."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked; he was puzzled.

"I'll tell you in a moment's time, Harry," he responded.

Motioning for his young pupil to sit, he mimicked the action, and they each sat facing the other. They entered their meditative stance, and on an unspoken command, Harry began to clear his mind.

He soon discovered that it was even easier than this morning, as he had already achieved the feat, which would naturally make it less complicated. When he had cleared his mind, he could again hear his magic roaring in his ears.

"Do you hear your magic?" Darkfang asked.

"Yes," Harry lazily said. Whenever he meditated, his muscles would relax to an almost impossible point, which was very soothing.

"Where do you feel the tingling?" he inquired.

"I feel it in my veins and in my nerves," the boy replied.

"Good," the goblin said, "you are well balanced."

"Okay," Harry said, falling out of his trance, "what does that mean?" He looked at the goblin pointedly, not giving him a choice but to answer.

The goblin had decided to tell him anyways, but that didn't really matter.

"When finding yourself in meditation," he began, "you go on a journey of self-discovery. Each person has different reasons for the way they act, and for the decisions they make. To reach your magical core, you have to discover where your thinking comes from. Each person usually has some sort of mixture between the two main places: the heart and the mind, and occasionally the stomach.

A good balance between the two is necessary for good decision making, and bringing about the best results for your efforts. But if you are unbalanced, things tend to be disastrous. For example: if someone only thinks with their heart, they act recklessly and can endanger themselves and others, whatever the case may be. I believe the Muggles say that they should 'look before they leap'. If you only think with your mind, you risk the danger of losing your humanity, as you lose your compassion, and most people who think with their minds lack common sense, or they only decide things for their own goals, and as such, they lose all the connections they have with people. They are usually described as crafty, clever, and ambitious. Neither is better than the other, but _together_ they create true wisdom.

You have a good balance between both, and you will be very wise someday because of that. Your heart allows you to think on behalf of others and lets you connect with them, and your mind allows you to work out problems beforehand, both together permitting you to solve any problem that you may come across.

Does that answer your question?" the goblin finished.

"Uh, yeah," the mind-numb boy answered. "That stuff's pretty deep."

"Oh yeah," Darkfang said, clutching his chest, "I can be emotional."

The overall effect caused the corners of Harry's mouth to turn upwards, and he stymied a chuckle. Eventually, it became too much for both of them. They burst out laughing in the presence of all the goblins there, causing each of them to raise their eyebrows in trepidation.

When their giddiness had subsided, they got back to business.

"Okay, so why can't I get past my armpit?" Harry asked.

"That would most likely be because you are not completely used to your magic yet, at least voluntary magic," he replied. "The darkness in your scar probably is providing somewhat of an obstacle, but it shouldn't be very much, as the power behind it is weak, barely there, really. My prognosis is that you exercise your magic some more to get used to it, as I'm sure you've already done a bit." Harry nodded here. "When you get used to your magic enough, you'll be able to go on to the next step."

"And what might that be?" Harry inquired tentatively.

"Focusing your magic," the goblin replied. "When you're ready for the next step, you'll be able to focus on your heart and mind. They will lead you to your magic, which you should then be able to grasp and harness. After that, you should be able to coax your magic to leave the block, which will cause the block to lose power, shrivel, decay, and then cease to be."

"One more thing," Harry said.

"What is it?" Darkfang asked.

"Yesterday, I performed my first Apparition, after reaching my magical core with barely any effort," he began, "and the next morning, I found that it was a lot easier to clear my mind and meditate. Do you know why that could be?"

"There is a difference between finding your magic for performance," the goblin began, "and searching out your magical core. I think that after using your magic, it sort of made your magic appear on your mind's 'radar' if you will, which, in turn, made it easier to start finding it for meditation."

"Okay," Harry replied. "That makes sense. Thank you."

With some parting pleasantries and a pat on the shoulder, Darkfang dismissed Harry, as Remus would probably be done with the plan by now. Promising to come back whenever he needed it, he left the coliseum via the stairs.

Heading back through the doors, he entered the marble hall once again, feet clacking on the floor all the way. Spying Remus, he made his way over, and the man spotted him. If his smile was any indication, Harry would say that the plan was a success.

"How'd it go?" Harry pressed.

"Fine, just fine," Remus replied.

"Was it hard to convince them?" Harry asked.

"Well," he answered, "let's just say that once I showed them that I was just as prejudiced, if not more, than them, they shaped right up and agreed with me to challenge the Ministry on behalf of another man that was ruled unjustly." In truth, he had lifted his shirt to prove he was a werewolf, showing them the scars from large teeth on his stomach and chest, but he wouldn't be showing Harry anytime soon. Unknown to him, though, Harry had some scars of his own.

"They'll take care of everything," Remus said, "but we should go now."

After he put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and the boy put his arm around Remus' waist, they exited the building. When they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the front doors of the bank, Harry braced himself for the unpleasant feeling of Apparition, and suddenly he wished that he would have told Remus about his abilities before.

* * *

When they arrived in front of the Manor, Harry once again felt the effects of regular wizard Apparition, even if the edge of discomfort was a little duller, allowing him to walk without assistance.

Once again, they went up the two staircases and headed back into the stony hall that was steadily growing on them. At first it seemed to be uninviting, cold, and all-around unpleasant. But after a while, it started to have a sort of homey feeling. It seemed less castle-like, and more like it was from a regular home, even if it wasn't.

They reached the library doors, and with the familiar password, they entered the Portrait Room. Once Lily and James woke up (figuratively), Remus told them everything about their latest escapade, and informed them that the goblins would take care of everything. They all rejoiced and had a little celebration. When they were done, Remus and Harry went off to the library to research some of the things that still had Harry puzzled, mainly the burst of fire that emitted from his hand before his first Apparition.

When Harry told Remus about his Apparition abilities, he was floored. He had never really heard about any of the things that Harry had told him that he could do. When told about the fire, he adopted a pensive look, which he quickly masked. He was astonished at all that Harry told him, and was puzzled as to why when he Apparated, he felt the things he did, such as the warmth and the feeling of expansion, not contraction, along with the lack of any noise when he did so.

Remus had gotten there about one and they had left about a half an hour later. When they returned it was about two, and as of now, they had officially been in the library for about four hours, with no significant fruits of their labor. Deciding that they had had enough for now, as they were unsuccessful with finding anything, they headed down to the kitchens. Their stomachs had decided the pace, which was a bit quick.

After a refreshing dinner of seafood linguini, garlic bread, and green beans, they said their heartfelt thanks to Smoky for the delicious meal, and went about their next order of business: exploration. Harry showed Remus the peculiar field he had found. When Remus had seen it, he explained that it was a miniature Quidditch Pitch, and it was built for about ten players, as opposed to the regular fourteen.

He explained the rules to him: three Chasers tried to put the Quaffle (a red ball roughly the size of a basketball) through one of the hoops on the raised posts, getting past the Keeper, while Bludgers (a hard ball – about half the size of the Quaffle) flew around the field, trying to hit players. The Bludgers themselves were hit with a bat by the Beaters (two for each team), to keep them away from their teammates. The final player was called the Seeker, and was arguably the most important player on the field. The one Seeker from each team was supposed to catch a very elusive walnut sized golden ball that had wings. It was very fast little thing and when caught, the team whose Seeker grabbed it received one hundred fifty points, also ending the game. He also informed him that each goal with the Quaffle was ten points and those were the only ways to score.

Finally satisfied, Harry and Remus finished their exploring, and finally at about ten thirty, he had to say goodnight to his uncle because he was tired. When Harry finally made it back to his room, as he had completely forgot about Apparition in his excitement during the day, he jumped onto his bed and stared at the stars and moon for a while. He felt that his mind was racing too much from the day to try to meditate, so he turned the lights back on to change into his pajamas, and then hopped into bed. A silent thank-you escaped his lips as he fell asleep, and he drifted off into slumber, truly thankful that he had someone like Uncle Moony to watch over and look after him.

* * *

A/N:

(1). If you don't know what this is from, I'm going to be really disappointed.

(2). That section flowed from the heart on the spot, so please let me know if you liked it. It's probably the most emotional thing I've ever written.

(3). Could someone please explain to me why Lily or James weren't the Secret Keeper? That's one of the things that really peeves me. If the person who lives at the place that's being "Fideliused" is the Keeper, then it really is a completely foolproof defense. And while I'm on this mini-rant, why wasn't Harry allowed to see his parents' portraits? I would imagine that they would have made one, if not more.

Well, now that we've met Remus, and Sirius is on the way, things are really looking up for Harry. Please, could anyone tell me how I'm doing? I mean seriously assess my abilities in regards to writing. Is my dialogue good? Are the characters' reactions believable? Is the story itself headed in a good direction? If you have any answers to these questions, please let me know, either in your reviews, or even in a PM.

Anyways, thank you all, and like I said in the beginning, 12,000 hits! NICE!

At 5468 words in the actual chapter, this is officially the longest one yet.

Merry (Belated) Christmas,

Henry Baxendale

P.S.—

What exactly is the function of a Beta?


	6. A Free Man

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 6 – A Free Man

Recap Time:

Chapter 5 – Old Friends

Harry makes it to the next step in his meditation and continues to exercise. He visits his parents later that day, and they have Toby send for Remus Lupin, and Harry meets him. They immediately begin bonding, and then he and Lily begin brainstorming on how to free Sirius, deciding to let the goblins take care of everything. Remus speaks to the goblins, and Harry speaks to Darkfang again, gaining more insight on meditation as a whole. They return to the Manor and tell Lily and James about what happened. After that, they explore, and Remus explains the mechanics of Quidditch to Harry, after which they research Harry's abilities some more. Then Harry went to bed.

* * *

A/N: Thank you guys for the helpful reviews.

_Italics_ are for spells and emphasis.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not a happy one hundred eight year old (1) man. When he went to the Dursleys' house, demanding that they tell him where Harry was, they just said that they had no idea where he was, and that they didn't care one bit. He even tried Legilimency on them to see if they really were telling the truth, but he could find no error in their words. He left the house in a huff, and went back to Hogwarts.

When he got back, he looked at all of his instruments that were tied to the boy's magical block. They all seemed to be weakened, suggesting that it had been damaged, but that was simply impossible. There was no way that he knew of that such a thing could happen, unless…

Albus' eyes widened, just as one of the instruments tied to the structure of the house exploded. His breath became quick and ragged, and he quickly rendered himself invisible and then transported himself back to No. 4, only to see several black shapes twisting, and then they were gone. His eyes flicked around the scene, surveying the area, and rested on the smoking pile of rubble that used to be the house called No. 4. He would probably never know what he was about to ask them, now.

No. He would have forced them to answer.

Sadness filled his heart when he looked at the scene. With a wave of his wand, he dispelled the Dark Mark, above the property, a sickening reminder of a twisted man, misshapen by his irrational fear of death. It was a symbol of fear; a serpent that coiled through and around a bare skull, symbols Voldemort. Albus knew that death was inevitable, but he always mourned when it was unnecessary. He never, thinking that he was taking the high road, aimed to kill anyone. He believed that everyone deserved a second chance, and that people could truly change their ways. What he didn't realize was that redemption only comes to those who truly seek it out and take it.

He left the scene as the policemen arrived to officially report the incident to the Ministry himself. He knew that they really were Ministry workers, and they would remove the memories of the incident from the witnesses. They didn't want anyone to know about magic, which would save people from a lot of problems. They would tell everyone that it was a gas leak, or something along those lines.

As he looked on, he continued to lament the passing of souls, but he would never truly stop to think that anyone deserved it. He was a wise man in his own right, but people never seem to differentiate between intelligence and wisdom these days. He was a wise man, but his morals and motives seemed to be out of whack.

At this moment in time, he was examining the rest of the instruments for about the thirty fifth time since that day. The tracking charms were very slow, now, and he had been notified when Harry was able to be reached. The only problem was the sluggishness of the updates and the placed where he went. He had appeared in front of Gringotts just as Toby had taken them to Potter Manor, and he had just missed Remus and Harry leaving Gringotts today.

All in all, he was not a happy man.

* * *

Harry woke to the rapping of a hand on his door. He rolled over and dismissed it as he was still pretty tired. Eventually, the rapping got more persistent, and he could ignore it no longer. It was like a woodpecker on the side of a house, albeit less rapid.

"Haaaaarry," his uncle said in a sing-song tone, and then spoke louder. "Wake up!"

Startled at the sound of his half-shout, Harry jolted upwards, and stared menacingly at his mischievous uncle. He looked at his uncle, and saw that he was already in his shorts and T-shirt, ready to go.

The reason that he was dressed like this was that it was now about a week from when they had visited the goblins. The morning after they had done so was when Remus asked Harry about his daily routine. He decided that he would join him on his runs, and occasionally used the weight room. The previous day had been pretty strenuous, and Harry was still a bit sore from the exertion, so his current state was quite understandable.

"Today's the day!" Harry exclaimed after he fought off the grogginess that clung to his consciousness like a ring-tailed lemur that clutched its parent.

"Yep," his uncle replied.

Today was the day of Sirius' official trial, and nothing would stop him from receiving justice. Not even a Wizengamot court under the influence of the Imperius Curse would condemn him again. All the people present would know what had happened. The truth would get out no matter what. So as Harry and Uncle Moony went out for their now companionable run, their minds were filled with the joy of knowing that Sirius Black would be free once again. He would no longer be subjected to the whims of the Ministry. He would be his own man again. No one could stop this inevitable truth, and they rejoiced for it.

They exercised for about an hour, and at ten o' clock, they began their daily spell training in a practice room that they had discovered in the east wing. Well, they actually asked Toby, and he told them where it was. This had also become a daily routine in addition to the runs and cardio. Remus was only teaching him basic spells, charms, and transfiguration, but Harry enjoyed it all the same.

After about the fourth or fifth day of magic training, Harry was able to pull of the Levitation Charm easily, although it was not completely perfect yet. His matchsticks were becoming more pointed every day, and it had even turned slightly metallic if he was able to concentrate enough.

Today, though, Remus decided that he would begin to teach Harry some "prank spells", such as the Tickling Charm, along with other simple charms that had humorous effects. They weren't necessarily combat spells, but they could provide a certain amount of distraction and unpredictability to anyone's fighting style, which could save your life. He explained that the Marauders had used these spells numerous times during their Hogwarts years, on students and teachers alike. They had many a laugh with them, and now Harry would be able to use them.

"_Rictusempra!_" Harry cried, but Remus only felt like a stiff feather was being used to stroke his neck, meaning that the spell had not been perfected.

"I think that you need some more work on that spell before it will work properly," Remus informed him.

"Well," Harry replied, a little crestfallen, "it's ten thirty, so let's go eat some breakfast."

A statement expressing agreement later and they were scurrying off to the kitchens to meet up with Smoky like every morning so far. Another thing had become routine: Remus and Harry convinced Smoky to let them help with meals. They didn't want to feel completely reliant on the elf, nor solely independent (which would hurt his feelings), so they helped with breakfast, made their own lunch (also making some for the elves), and Smoky would treat them for dinner. Everyone thought that it was a fair deal, and they were happy.

A slight atmosphere of apprehension filled the room as Harry was crunching on a slightly overdone piece of bacon and Remus was eating some eggs. They all knew that if something was fated to go wrong, it would happen to them. When the clocks rang eleven, Remus was off to get dressed in the expensive suit that Toby had picked up for him. About half an hour later, Remus returned, sporting said suit. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he headed off to the trial.

"Bye, Moony!" Harry called. "Don't have too much fun."

"Alright, alright," he replied with a sad smirk. "I'll have Sirius back before dinner. See you later."

And then he was gone.

Harry downed his potion, and then he decided to do a little more meditation and see if he was able to get past his armpit yet. He had worked on it for the as long as he'd been there, but to no noticeable avail. Hopefully he would be able to make some progress soon. He gathered himself and noticed that he was still a bit sore.

"Yeah, I think I'll do that after a nice shower," he said to no one in particular.

Harry emerged from the bathroom with a relaxed smile on his face, and a healthy glow about him. The time he had spent here was really paying off in regards to his health. He made his way across the hall to his room, and shut the door behind him. He didn't particularly want to be disturbed at this time.

He set himself down and settled into his meditative stance, all the while slowing his breathing. When he found a steady pace, he then began to clear his mind. This time was probably the easiest yet, as he had been able to do it several times now. Focusing on his fingers and toes was effortless, and following the warmth up his left arm was simple. When he reached the roadblock, he unconsciously tensed, suddenly afraid of failure. When the roaring came, it was gentler than ever before, almost like it was whispering to him. Slowly, he listened as the sound became words that echoed in his mind, reassuring him that he could do it. The words whispered, telling him to reach out, reach past the obstacle that had hindered him. Taking its advice, he imagined himself simply reaching out and going past the barrier, effectively going surpassing it. When he reached across it, he immediately became aware of his heart and mind, like they were calling to him. Reaching out again, he touched them with his mind, unknowingly sealing the link between his magical "veins" and his heart; his nerves and his brain. He then tried to do the same for his right arm, but the block seemed to be there again, and he decided to stop there for the day.

The only thing he could think of that would help him to go past the all too familiar road block that was in the same place as in his left arm, was that he needed to practice more magic. Somehow he knew that it would be easier now, given that he had connected part of himself to his magic.

He was suddenly startled out of his reverie by the time that was displayed on the clock of his nightstand: one p.m.! He quickly jumped to his feet and disapparated on the spot with the kitchen as his destination.

When appeared there, he was a little disappointed to see that Smoky had already finished lunch and apparently had already finished eating, as he was nowhere in sight. Gritting his teeth at his blunder, he dug into the expertly made fish and chips a bit grudgingly. When finished, he looked around to make sure Smoky wasn't actually in the room, and tiptoed over to the sink and gingerly set his dishes into it.

As soon as he turned the water on to begin washing it, he heard a pop behind him, and he knew what was about to happen.

"HARRY POTTER!"

That was his cue.

Without a second glance back, he ran out of the room laughing, leaving Smoky in a furious state, which to anyone would be quite amusing.

When he was closing the dining room door, Toby appeared next to him and told him that Remus was back with Sirius in tow. Smiling his thanks to the elf, he dismissed him, and made his way to the front door, slightly shaking in anticipation. He opened the door, and there stood Remus, still in his expensive suit, but what really caught his attention was the man next to him. This man had grimy black hair that fell to his shoulders and worn-looking clothes that hung loosely on him. Harry could tell that the man was skinnier than he used to be, even through the garments he was wearing. He had dark eyes, prominent, dark eyebrows, and a face that looked to be cut from stone. It had a sort of regal quality to it, like he was of somewhat noble birth. Even with his current wild looks, he still had a proud look about him. His facial hair was scruffy and had not been cut for nine long years. His eyes were what got Harry the most, though. They held a wild, slightly insane look to them, like the animal inside him had been reigning free and controlling him for a while. Harry could still see the kind man deeper beneath the man's eyes, though, and that was one of the few things he remembered of him. Harry continued to look at the man, so he spoke first.

"Harry?" he rasped. He hadn't spoken in several years.

"Uncle Padfoot," Harry returned softly.

He then embraced the man like he did to Remus, and cringed slightly. This man did not smell pleasant. The stink of urine, vomit, and fear clung to him like wet clothes, beginning to waft away from creating a big cloud of unpleasantness.

Ignoring the less than pleasant aroma for now, unlike Remus whose heightened sense of smell made it nearly unbearable, he welcomed Sirius into the house with the routine piece of parchment containing the address. They stepped inside, and Harry immediately called for Toby and asked him to pop Sirius to the bathroom to shower, get him some nice clothes, and to help him in any way that he needed.

Harry and Remus decided to make use of the time given to them and went to the spell practice room that Toby had shown them. The room seemed to know what you needed when you needed it, and it accordingly set out practice dummies, and even had a supply of matchsticks, feathers, and other things that you would perform charms and transfiguration on.

Harry began with a cry of, "_Wingaurdium Leviosa!_" and the feather he cast it on floated upwards accordingly. He was happy to see that his inference regarding the ease of using magic after passing the block in his meditation was correct. He could almost feel the magic traveling through his arm and going out through the end of his wand.

He then performed the spell to transform the matchstick on the table in front of him to a needle, remembering what his father's journal had said about Transfiguration. "The key to Transfiguration is the visualization. If you get the pronunciation, wand movements, and amount of power right, it won't do anything if you don't visualize exactly what you're trying to do."

Taking his father's advice, he visualized a perfect needle. When he was sure that he had it perfect, he said the incantation and did the correct wand movement. Sure enough, the matchstick gradually became pointed and took on a metallic sheen. It had become exactly what he had thought of.

"Wow, Harry," Remus acknowledged, "you've really got it down now."

"Yeah," he replied, "I was able to get to the next step in my meditation. Once that happened, I've found that it's much easier to do magic now." Then without warning, Harry swished his wand forward with a shout of, "_Rictusempra!_" and Remus fell to the ground laughing, completely under the influence of a perfect tickling charm.

It was at this moment in time that Sirius burst through the door and, having seen Remus on the floor, he busted out with a laugh, also, which in combination with Remus sent Harry into a fit of laughter also. After a while, seeing as Remus was getting the hiccups and was tiring himself out with all the laughing, he performed the counter-charm with his friend's wand, finally relieving Remus of his affliction.

When they all finally gained control of themselves again, Remus and Harry stopped to admire what some attention to hygiene had done for Sirius. His hair now fell neatly to just above his shoulders, black and sleek. His once unruly beard and mustache were as of now tamed much better. It was a couple centimeters long but most of his jaw was bare, along with his cheeks, just leaving the hair around his mouth and on his chin. His clothes were a lot better fitting, even if he was still a bit skinny, but they could change that with a proper diet. All in all, he looked a lot better and more content with himself. The insane glint in his eyes was almost completely gone, now, and it would vanish if given enough time. Harry also had time to check up on Remus' new trim style. Having only a mustache made him look much younger, and a lot happier.

Now that they were all back together, Harry felt the happiest he had ever known, and he let them know that.

Deciding to take him to see his parents' portrait, Harry and Remus towed Sirius along until they reached the familiar doors, in front of which Harry recited the password. Sirius had about the same reaction to the portraits as Remus did, and when he heard the bit about his level of maturity, he looked scandalized.

"You have no idea how mature I am," Sirius said indignantly, huffing his disbelief.

"No, sir," Lily said right back. "You are still—"

"Nu-uh."

"No, you listen—"

"No, no, you don't even know," he stated airily. He seemed to be back at full capacity.

"Pfft, whatever, Sirius," she conceded.

When they were done with their verbal jousting (Sirius smirking in his victory) and stories, they left to go get some dinner.

When Sirius saw the amazing food, he immediately made a break for it, only to be chased away by an overprotective Smoky the house elf (who was brandishing a large wooden spoon that was about twice the length of his arm).

Harry and Remus had a laugh at Sirius' expense, and finally when the food had cooled down a bit, they all ate together, along with Smoky and Toby. The conversation was light, if there was any at all, because they all were hungry from the stressful day. Well, except for Sirius. He was ravenous. He had no idea how he was able to control his hunger for the entire time he was here. The only thing he'd been eating for nine years was meager helpings of disgusting gruel, served in equally disgusting Azkaban bowls.

Once the mood had calmed down a bit and Sirius wasn't greedily consuming his food like a rabid animal, Harry asked about what had happened at the trial. Basically, the goblin who had officially called for the trial had complained about how they needed a Black Family Representative, and the current one was in prison with no grounds for such incarceration. He slyly hinted that a goblin rebellion would be up in arms soon if they didn't get what they want, and Minister Fudge was hard-pressed not to grant their request of an actual trial for Sirius. He himself was the first on scene when Sirius was arrested, and he actually admitted that he had jumped to the conclusion that Sirius was guilty, causing everyone else to do the same. The fact that Sirius was not the Secret Keeper hadn't even crossed his mind until the man had been dosed with Veritaserum, and finally the truth was revealed. Even if he had wanted to keep Sirius in prison, no one could counter his claims of innocence after the potion induced confession. He was granted immediate pardon, and he would be receiving compensation for their grave mistake soon. They had even seen Dumbledore there, but they had turned a cold shoulder to him and left before he could speak to them.

When they had a moment alone after the trial, Remus had immediately apologized to his friend for assuming like the rest of the magical world. He had believed a lie because he was afraid that it was true, and he would have gone his whole life with that belief if it were not for the boy sitting between them. (2) At the mention of Harry's name, Sirius started feeling more like himself after the torture of Azkaban. He now officially had a mission to accomplish, and it involved the godson he had not seen in nine long years. He forgave his friend without a second thought. After all, isn't that what they do for each other?

When finally they were done with the meal, they decided to head towards the indoor Quidditch Pitch, and get Harry on a broom. All the way through the walk, Sirius admired the architecture and style of the Manor, giving a low whistle when he saw something that he considered to be very impressive. Once they reached the door to the Pitch, they entered without question. Each of them grabbed a broom, and soon after, Sirius and Remus began explaining how to mount the broom, where to put your hands, and how to turn and control the strange (to Harry) apparatus.

When they were done explaining it to him, Harry mounted the broom like he was bidden, and held the broom the correct way, effectively breaking any bad habits that he would have had if he had just started by himself. They told him to kick off when he was ready, and he paused for a few seconds, waiting out his nerves for a bit, and then pushed. As soon as he did this, he was free. Feeling the weightlessness of flight set his stomach into a barrel roll, and his heart felt like it was in his throat (all in a good way, of course). It was easily the most exhilarating experience he had ever felt, and he was enjoying every minute of it. The freedom of flight sent him into a very happy state, and in that moment, he felt like a regular nine year old for the first time in his life.

Soon after the early stages of his first flight, he began doing laps around the Pitch, steadily increasing his speed. Feeling confident, he began doing complicated maneuvers, dives, loops, rolls, you name it. His uncles just stood in silence, admiring his newfound affinity for flight. Eventually, they decided to have him try to catch things that they threw, like some tennis balls that they found. Upon witnessing that Harry rarely missed a ball, they decided that they had a star Seeker in their midst. They couldn't wait to hear about stories of him dominating the sky while at Hogwarts. Even if they didn't like Albus Dumbledore at the time, they knew that Harry would get the best education at Hogwarts, and that was important to Lily and James.

When they all had finally had enough (more from exhaustion than boredom), they decided to head to bed, and Sirius chose a room close to Harry and Remus'. And so they all had a room in the hallway to the library.

* * *

The next day, Sirius joined them in their morning exercise, as he really needed it. All he'd been doing for the past nine years was sitting in his cell, slowly wasting away into nothing. He was actually happy to be able to do something for once. They all found it quite amusing when Sirius' back cracked like a sack of dry bones underneath a steamroller when they were stretching after their warm-up jog.

It was just before their spell training that Harry told Sirius of his abilities regarding Apparition and magic in general, along with describing the jet of fire that had appeared just before his first attempt.

Sirius' face immediately scrunched up in thought and he went through several theories in his head. Having found one that one that offered an explanation, he provided background to explain how he knew what he did.

"I think I have an explanation," he provided. Harry's ears perked up at this. "As you may or may not know, I worked as a Hit Wizard right after I came out of Hogwarts." Seeing Harry's questioning look, he elaborated. "A Hit Wizard is basically the same thing as an Auror," again he saw his godson's look, "which is like a magical policeman, except that Hit Wizards are put into more dangerous situations, like reconnaissance, infiltration, stuff like that.

"In addition to the normal job, they are also taught how to do more obscure magic, such as shifting the plane of their vision, so as to look at people's magical Auras and moral alignment. Other skills of more advanced Hit Wizards include the ability to feel or see the emotions of other people, well; it's more interpretation than actually feeling it and the seeing part lets them see the people in different color, each corresponding to a certain emotion. Those are the commonplace abilities. So they told me.

"One day, I decided that I wanted to see if there were different 'obscure' ways that could be used for defense, and even offense. So I did some research in what some would call seedy places and unveiled some interesting things; things that the Ministry has tried to keep under-wraps.

"One of the things I found was information on the Elementals. These people had the ability to use the elements at will, sometimes one, sometimes more. It usually depends on the power of the individual. But, unfortunately, they are hard to come by, if they even exist anymore, these days.

"I don't think that that's what is going on with you, as the Elementals have strange markings all over their bodies, but I think it would be a safe bet to say that you're an Adept. Adepts are more common than the Elementals, even when they were still here. Even today, there are people that we would classify as Adepts. Most people who actually are Adepts, or even see one of them, would just call it an affinity to an element. Those people are not true Adepts, as they do not have a large amount of power behind the element they control. It takes a powerful wizard to fully use their element, or in some cases, elements.

"The main difference between the Adept and Elemental is the markings, like I said before, and that Elementals pretty much only use the elements. Adepts, on the other hand, use both their wands and their elemental abilities, making them more versatile. The Adept also has their own brand of magic; a different flavor, if you will. These next two abilities are only able to be used when the Adept has a large amount of power: their magic leaves little, if any, residue after it is cast, and if someone casts a spell to see what their wand has cast, it doesn't produce a result. They even have their own form of Apparition, which is undetectable by the Ministry, and works on a different level than wards, meaning that they cannot be contained by any known means, besides keeping them unconscious. That's why the Ministry doesn't want anyone to know anything about them, because then control would be lost."

Sirius then asked Remus to perform the _Prior Incantato _spell on Harry's wand because he had yet to acquire a new one yet. On any other wand, any other time, an ethereal, misty image that described the last spell cast would have been projected, but not in this case. They all stood in amazement at the lack of a display. Finally, they all accepted the truth, but not without one final display.

"Harry," Sirius said as he and Remus stepped back, "try tapping into your magic like you're going to apparate, but try not to."

"Alright," he replied.

Harry immediately closed his eyes and focused. He delved deep within himself, searching for the magic. When he found it, he touched it. It was like jumping into a pool of water that was charged with electricity. It was so exhilarating, it was almost painful.

When he opened his eyes, he looked down and saw the same fire as before, but it was not out of control like the last time. It was simply curling around his hands and forearms. The flames licked at him, but did not harm him. An unearthly gale whipped around his small frame, rippling his clothes and ruffling his hair. The floor was broken in a circle around him and pointed stone spikes came through, surrounding him like a spiked battlement. He then noticed that Remus and Sirius looked fuzzy, and discovered that there was a sphere of water surrounding him. Sirius and Remus just stared in shock at him, both of them in awe at his display of power.

"Okay, Harry, I think you should let go now," Remus said, still shocked at the strange occurrence.

Harry immediately complied. The stones retracted, the water fell, and the air stopped its motion, and the fire simply stopped. Harry just stood there for a few moments. He was confused, amazed, and invigorated all at the same time.

Seeing as the time that they had wanted to use for practicing magic had been used up, they headed off to breakfast, all thinking of the possibilities that could be achieved with Harry's newfound power. Harry was also thankful that he finally had some answers that he'd been asking for.

Throughout the rest of the day, they simply bonded. They learned more about each other, slowly but surely healing all of their emotional wounds. Given time, they would have healed, but the scars produced from such healing would have been unsightly and destructive. Harry would not have been very comfortable around people, and would not have made friends easily, but with his Uncles, he would be alright. They would give him part of the childhood that he missed. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be enough. Remus and Sirius would finally learn that they were not alone anymore. They would each leave their own marks on Harry, but he would do the same for them.

* * *

(1). I got the age from the HP-Lexicon (using math). I also find it interesting that Dumbledore turned 100 during the same year that Lily and James were murdered.

(2). I was thinking that Sirius would be very traumatized by the tortures of Azkaban, but then I realized that when he escaped in Canon, he was searching for Peter, which was his one purpose at that time. So I gave him another purpose to escape his trauma: to care for Harry.

5074 words.

* * *

Anime Princess-

The reason Harry is so open to Remus and, in this chapter, Sirius is because he remembers them and their kindness. As for Hermione, she'll be coming up in a few chapters, as long as the story keeps going like I want it to…

MartinDeShade-

Your review is makes the most sense to me for why someone couldn't be the Secret Keeper to their own house. You seriously opened my eyes to the whole fidelity thing. I knew that that's what it meant, but I just wasn't making that connection.

Anyway, more questions about the Fidelius for you:

1. What happens when the Secret Keeper dies? I realize that (if I'm remembering correctly) when Dumbledore died, all the members of the Order of the Phoenix became "joint" (if you will) Secret Keepers to Grimmauld Place. Because of this, did that mean that none of them could be there for extended periods of time, if the inference that the Secret Keeper cannot live at the place they're keeping secret is true. Then it begs the question: what exactly would it mean to actually "live" there? Is it just the state of physical presence there, or is it a state of your conscience? For, example: if you were a member of the Order after Dumbledore died, would you be able to stay at Grimmauld Place if it was the only safe place that you believed you could stay, or would it all hang on your interpretation of the effects of the charm? Furthermore, how would Dumbledore be able to stay at Grimmauld Place if he was the Secret Keeper? This is all assuming, again, that you can't stay at the place you're keeping secret.

2. Can the location be forcibly taken from your mind or tortured out of you?

Thanks for the various answers and your positive comments. I'll probably update on next Sunday at the earliest as I'm getting back to school next week.

Happy New Year,

Henry Baxendale


	7. Forgiveness and Discovery

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 7 —Forgiveness and Discovery

Last Chapter:  
Chapter 6 – A Free Man

The chapter begins as we gain some insight on Dumbledore's perspective, and the fact that he desperately wants to get to Harry for reasons unknown. Time then skips a week to the day of Sirius' trial, which Remus attends. While he is away, Harry gets past the barrier in his arm during meditation, which allows him to perform magic with less difficulty. Remus returns with Sirius, and the newly released man cleans himself up. They all begin and continue the healing process with people to support them. It is soon discovered that Sirius has knowledge of obscure magic, and he reveals the origins of Harry's most peculiar abilities: he is an Adept.

A/N: I guess I lied about updating last chapter, but that might be a good thing :P. About 20,000 hits so far and almost a hundred reviews!

* * *

Harry Potter, along with his two Uncles, had the best two years of his life so far. All of them enjoyed each others' company, and they benefited from the new life they had been given. Even Albus Dumbledore had left his mark on Harry. Surprisingly, he had contacted Harry and begged for his forgiveness.

Dumbledore searched for Harry high and low for a long while before he finally caught him. The reason he wanted to find him was because he wanted to apologize to him for the insanely hard life he had so foolishly condemned him to. Well, actually, he realized that that was what he _should_ do, as he had calmed down considerably from before, when he was frantically looked for him in order to control his life again. He was a wise man, but he had finally realized, with Harry's indirect help, that he had not been thinking clearly in regards to the boy's welfare, and that he had made mistakes that needed rectifying. He was willing, however, to make amends for his actions, and for the actions that he would have gone through with, if left to his own devices, namely continuing to manipulate Harry's life. He would begin to gain a little of Harry's trust by returning something that rightfully belonged to the boy.

It all started when Harry had asked to return to Diagon Alley to take a look at the bookshop. Remus and Toby decided to accompany him and applied a glamour charm to him to disguise his appearance, giving him blonde hair and brown eyes, which also obscured his scar in case someone was able to see it between the fringes of his golden hair if left alone.

Dumbledore had been surveying the area, in person and through his equipment, as it was the most likely place that Harry would appear. Given that he did not recognize the boy next to Remus Lupin and that there was a house elf nearby, he became wary of them. He could sense a glamour charm on the boy, which increased his suspicions even more.

He silently followed them into Flourish and Blotts and slipped in just before the door closed. As soon as Harry headed off into his own direction, Dumbledore cast a silencing and revulsion charm around Remus and himself and made his presence known.

The wolf-man turned when Albus revealed himself and sighed. "I didn't think that we'd be able to escape you if we came here."

Dumbledore simply nodded with a sad demeanor. "It seems that I have things to make right with our young boy Harry, here." Remus sighed again, and gave his approval. Even if he wanted to resist, he wouldn't have stood a chance against this powerful wizard. Albus canceled the charms and made his way over to Harry as soon as Remus had talked to Toby and told him that Dumbledore was okay.

Harry had chosen to check out the shelves of books upstairs in the loft-like section of the bookstore. He had chosen a book and had plopped down on a comfortable couch in the corner of the room, out of the way and inconspicuous. Albus Dumbledore slowly approached the boy, so as not to startle him. When he was within range, he did the same thing as when he talked to Lupin, just in case someone came up there.

Harry looked up when he saw movement over the top of his book. Frowning slightly, he looked at the old man approaching him and watched as he flicked his wand. The man had a sort of funny appearance, what with his long silver beard, his half-moon glasses, crooked nose, and his astral-themed robes. He had kind blue eyes looked like they had seen many unsavory things, yet they still had a faint twinkle in them. As of now, though, they were filled with exhausted sadness the likes of which Harry had only felt before.

This man unconsciously demanded his attention with his commanding qualities, so Harry abandoned his book for now and put it on the small table next to the sofa he was lounging on.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly, just as Albus dispelled the charm around him, revealing his green eyes and jet black hair. He already had a guess.

Albus seemed taken aback at his green eyes, as they held more maturity than boys much older than the one in front of him. The eyes were unlike anything he'd ever seen, never mind—Lily —, and he suddenly wished that they didn't have to be the way they were.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," he answered, and watched Harry's expression. It twisted from an uncertain frown to an asphyxiated anger, and the air around them noticeably increased in temperature. Truthfully, Albus would have expected more of a reaction from this boy, but as he would soon learn, he was a very mature and rational young man.

"What do you want?" he almost growled, as he was obviously holding back on the bite in his voice.

Albus Dumbledore was shocked. If he would have been this young boy in this position, he would have taken full advantage of the situation and chew out the man who had done things as he had done to Harry. "I want to apologize," Harry's expression became surprised, "and I want to give you something." He then produced a silver cloak from the confines of his own, and handed it to Harry. He held it in his hands and stared at it, then began to run his fingers over it. The feeling that accompanied it was as smooth as running his hands through water; the cloak was impossibly silky to the touch. Upon an inquisitive look from Harry, he elaborated. "This cloak belonged to your father. He left it in my possession before he died. When worn, it will allow you to become invisible. One of its strange qualities is that it cannot be summoned by anyone save the owner, and that title now belongs to you."

"And why did he lend it to you?" Harry inquired. It didn't make any sense to him.

"I was examining it; trying to discern whether the hopes of an old man had any grounds."

"And did you discover anything?" Harry pressed further.

"Yes," he replied. "It was exactly what I thought it was." Suddenly realizing that he had yet to ask a question, and that was part of the reason he came over here, he began his "investigation," of sorts. "Harry, may I ask you some questions?"

He received a stiff nod after a moment's contemplation, and then began his inquiry.

"Firstly, I'd like to validate some inferences that I've regrettably was forced to make. I have some instruments at Hogwarts that are tied to you, and some of them failed, others cease to work properly. The only way I could see this happening involves… did they physically abuse you, Harry? Did they harm you in any way?"

Harry dropped his gaze for a few moments, and looked to be at odds with himself over how much to tell the man in front of him. Eventually, he looked back up and nodded stiffly again, confirming his suspicions. Dumbledore himself could scarcely hold back the anger for himself and sadness for Harry. He had caused this whole mess.

He looked at war within himself before Harry heard him whisper, voice choked, "Dear God, what have I done?" He warded off his steadily growing tears, and regained his breathing. "I'm so sorry, my boy," he said, voice full with emotion, something that had not happened in a long, long time. "I'm so sorry I did this to you. I didn't listen to all the people around me who spoke with the voice of reason. I didn't look after you like I should have, like your parents asked me to."

He turned to go, but a soft hand caught his wrist; a hand that trembled with the unspoken words that the boy behind him had wanted to say.

"I never thought," Harry began, "that I'd be able to listen to what you had to say, but seeing you like this has made me realize that you are truly sincere. I never thought that I'd be able to hold my tongue as you spoke to me, but now I realize that you never meant for any of this to happen. I don't know if I'll be able to trust you completely, but you've made your first steps toward gaining it today, and I will be willing to give it to you once I believe that you've earned it in addition to the forgiveness you've already received."

Albus simply nodded sadly, then turned to leave once again and left the store while contemplating his good fortune in regards to the young man he had finally seen once again after nine years and almost a month. Hopefully, in time, he would gain some reconciliation with the boy he had so grievously harmed through his actions. But for now, he had to return to Hogwarts to tend to some Headmaster duties, especially in regards to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Since Harry had accomplished what he really wanted to do today, he asked Remus if they could leave, and they returned to the Manor momentarily. He needed time to think about what he would do in regards to Albus Dumbledore. If he proved himself worthy of trust, it would be given and that was that.

Discovering that Remus had his own agenda while on their little escapade to Diagon Alley didn't take long. While they were there, Sirius decorated the house with the help of the house elves and his new wand, a ten and a quarter inch maple instrument with dragon heart string as its core. Toby and Smoky bounced around happily with several other elves from the Manor that they had recently met: Spadey tended the gardens, Bobby kept the rest of the grounds pristine, and Joey kept watch at night from the tower. If there were more elves, they didn't know it, though from the way the five they had met were handling things, they didn't think more were even required.

When they got back, Harry looked around and was astounded at his surroundings. He had never seen anything quite like this. Streamers and balloons were attached to the walls, and Remus looked quite proud of it, like he had actually done it. He led Harry through the center door of the entrance hall, into the homey circular room that they had identified as the living room. Sirius and Remus each said that it looked similar to the Gryffindor common room, as it had a similar color scheme. It had a large couch in front of the biggest fireplace Harry had ever seen, with plushy chairs on the ends of the sofa, effectively making a semicircle of comfort. There were even tables and desks like the aforementioned room.

The proceedings started with Happy Birthday being sung to Harry for the first time that he could remember. He blew out his candles with unsteady breath; he was so grateful for the new people in his new life. The cake was fantastic, and the company was even better. Remus, ever the studious one, gave him a book about useful spells (including prank spells, as he and Sirius would be appalled if he didn't know very many of them) and Sirius gave him a wand holster with unbreakable anti-summoning charms and when being fully used, it would be concealed to everyone but Harry. Upon a thought, it would spring out of his holster, and into his hand. The house elves all banded together and gave him a wand servicing kit. Harry was more than happy to have all these people together with him, and he would remember that day for a long time, even if he couldn't have them together on the actual day.

The next year of his life was jam packed with all the fun that could be had with his Uncles, along with some discovery. Their days were filled with the exercise they had adopted together, along with spell practice. Harry enjoyed watching Remus and Sirius practicing their dueling skills, even if they were a mockery to the name of duelist. At the end of one of their battles, Remus was sporting a fetching new set of tentacles (that were attached to his bum), a tie-die outfit, and clown shoes, while Sirius had dog legs, some impressively plumed wings sprouting from his back, and had somehow traded his ears for ones that belonged to an elephant. It was times like these that Harry was glad he had them here with him.

In addition to Harry's original long term projects, namely meditation and spell practice (both to save his life), he began to learn some of the obscure abilities that Sirius had mentioned before telling him about the Adepts. He took interest in the abilities that let him see people's Auras and moral alignment as well as emotions.

These abilities were not truly difficult to learn, they were only hard because of their obscurity. No one really knew of these abilities, but Sirius was able to teach him what he had learned. The way to learn it was similar to meditation, but anchoring the ability to your magical core required the use of an advanced potion; one for each talent. This project was long-term because it wasn't safe to anchor it while his block was still in place.

As for his uncles, Remus continued his search for a cure to eradicate lycanthropy, and Sirius just kept working on his physical condition. They all decided to come up with creative ways to use Harry's newfound powers, along with "extensions" of his abilities. They learned that he could create and manipulate electricity and could fire lightning bolts, a fact that Harry found slightly ironic. He could freeze and heat up the environment and objects and could soften impact with the ground, either by actually softening the earth or by reducing air resistance by an astronomical amount, a discovery that led to the knowledge that he could manipulate the air around him while on a broom, letting him increase his speed very high levels, which couldn't bother him, because he could even manipulate the properties of the air, including oxygen levels. He could pull water out of the air and create miniature typhoons and hurricanes that served as a good distraction and destructive ability. He could create fireballs, a constant stream of flame, and firestorms. He could also use the explosive flames to fly, although he would need a lot of space to do so, as it would scorch the surrounding area without a doubt. The earth allowed him to erect defensive walls to deflect curses and spells effectively. Even metals could be bent to his will. He could "fling" all of the elements in one way or another, and it was about as effective as a good _Stupefy _spell, a red jet of light that rendered its recipient unconscious, and it seemed that as he connected limbs to his magic, the elemental powers kept growing more powerful. Element-based spells became more powerful as his powers grew, also.

He even made very good progress with his meditation. By the time that the first year of freedom had ended, he had finished with his third limb, which allowed him to use his magic even more easily, and made his spells about three-quarters as affective in comparison to his Uncles'. He was well on his way to finishing the final limb and then he would be able to begin convincing his magic to extract itself from the block. Darkfang informed him that it would be easier to do so when he was about ten and a half, as that was the time that the magical core of a child began to stabilize.

Over time, Dumbledore and Harry mended the wounds that were between them, and Harry slowly began to trust him. Dumbledore eventually convinced Harry to have tea with him once a week, which slowly turned to three times. Each time, they got closer, and slowly developed what was sure to be a healthy grandfather-grandson relationship.

Once Harry had told Dumbledore about his parents' portrait, he decided that Harry should slowly divide himself from them, as it was "better to live in the present than to become obsessed with what used to be". So upon his request, he slowly, but with much reluctance, separated himself from them, but it was certainly emotionally testing. The portraits didn't mind as much as him, as they were timeless entities, but Harry didn't completely cut himself off from them, and occasionally came to speak with them, which Dumbledore did not object to.

Time went on, and Harry was happy with himself and everything that had happened since that fateful day. Dumbledore and he were not at odds anymore, he was having the time of his life, and he would be starting at Hogwarts within a year's time, which was slated to be a very entertaining (and adventurous) seven years.

* * *

It was now mid May of 1991, and Harry was about to begin working on extracting his core from the block. He realized that he was under a slight time constraint, but with hard work and perseverance, he would be able to do it.

He began like always, sitting in his now-traditional meditation position: sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, his fingers intertwined and his hands flat against his abdomen, which was by now quite fit. He entered his mind, beginning with his hands and feet, like always, and began the search.

It started with the tingling. The indescribable feeling of his magic coursing through his veins; it felt like a furious river supplied by a sea of rage; unpredictable and undoubtedly powerful, and this was only the beginning. He delved deeper, the magic consuming him, filling him; empowering him. He dipped into the lake filled by his magic, and the sensations exploded, creating an intoxicating affect. Power surged around him; it reached his ears and carried promises upon its wings. It would never fail him, he could always be able to call on it, and it would never leave him. He smiled at its pledges; it was a trustworthy foundation. The roar of power continued, and he followed it back to the source. Limb by limb he followed, and branch by branch he connected them; saplings to the soil; willows to the river. Each connection caused the low cry to crescendo, filling his being to bursting. Finally, with all connected, he began the search for the center.

His heart and mind spoke to him in an eternal song, one that scarcely paused, and he realized why few stopped to listen. The difficulty of what he had accomplished was substantial, but it was nothing compared to what he was experiencing, and if others only knew, they would begin the search too. They continued the song, the harmonies and melodies intertwining; soprano, alto, tenor, and bass interweaving in perfect unison one moment, and each undertaking their own part the next, taking the impossible and achieving it without notice. They thought nothing of their existence, they just were there, as if they had been here for all time, and would never leave. Harry simply listened for what felt like eternity, listening to the things inside of him make music, but when he remembered his mission, he asked the question of his heart and mind: _Lead me to my center._ That was all he requested, nothing more, nothing less. The perfect song seemed to rest for a moment, and they responded. Not with words, but they showed him.

Radiance. It was the only word he could use to describe what had filled his mind after that. A blinding radiance filled his mind's eye, and he could not keep the happiness and warmth from filling him; it infused him with joy and contentment; bliss and satisfaction. The acceptance of these feelings seemed to let him see once again, and he was astounded.

He was floating, just a drifter in a sea of openness; a void. He was racing towards something; he was traveling faster than he thought possible. As he raced, he saw a shimmering light in the distance; a small white spot against the darkness of the void; a single light in this dreamscape of darkness. It grew from infinitesimal a sphere to an orb with a ten meter diameter in, it seemed, no time at all. He somehow knew that this once small star was the source of the radiance, and it was his center; the most important part of his being.

He reached out to touch it, and it drifted closer to him, as if seeking him out. He touched the surprisingly cool surface, and a vision flashed in his head. He could see the bright Orb that was before him, but there was something surrounding it. It was a grayish color, and looked to be intertwined with itself, like a giant corded ball. This, he assumed, was the block he had heard so much about. The inside layer of it was attached to the familiar Sphere, but he knew not how to disconnect them. Then suddenly, a wail filled his mind, and he was back from the vision, but the twine that was revealed had not disappeared. Its tendrils wrapped around him and abided no escape. He realized that he was trapped and there was no easy flight from the confines of this world. 'Wow,' he thought, 'trapped within my own mind.'

He then set to work, receiving instructions from his Center all the while. It told him that he needed to use his hands to untangle the outer layer itself from the inner layer of the block, which would sever the connection between the two.

Harry had no idea how long he'd been working, but by the time he was finished, his mental hands were bleeding from the effort, and his mind was exhausted. He went straight from his magically induced coma to the deepest sleep of his life, which did not alert any of the occupants of the room of his recovery.

When Harry awoke, he found Remus, Sirius, Toby, and all the rest of the house elves in the room. His Uncles were sleeping, as they were rather fatigued from fretting over him and feeding him by magical means. The house elves, however, were quickly pacing around the room, each of them muttering under their breath.

Toby was the first to notice Harry stirring in his bed, and rushed over to his side with cries of, "Mister Harry Potter, sir, yous is being all right!" and alerted the rest of the room to the good fortune that had befallen them.

Remus and Sirius awoke from their own exhaustion-induced slumber and as soon as they shook off their drowsiness, they began to fuss over him. The house elves that were pacing around the room all rushed to stand behind Toby, creating a semicircle around the bed, all trying to see how he was doing.

"Hey, guys," Harry said uncertainly, as he had no idea why they were all hovering over him at seven in the morning. "What's happening?"

"Is that all you have to say?" Remus asked him in an almost furious tone, which caused Harry's eyebrows to lift in surprise.

"You've been in a coma for a month and a half!" exclaimed Sirius, which surprised Harry even more.

"What happened?" his Uncles asked more gently, and Harry launched into his tale.

Harry did his best to describe what he had gone through, but hit a block when discussing the Radiance. It wasn't really something that one could repeat to others; you had to experience it for yourself. He told of how he reached his Center, and how he had been trapped by the block. He told of how he unraveled the block from his Core, and how he had felt so spent afterwards that he went straight from the coma to slumber. Thankfully, two days of sleep was enough to relieve the mental exhaustion.

When he finished the recapitulation, the rest stood and sat in thoughtful silence, all contemplating and pondering everything he had said. In truth, it was very interesting, and it was difficult to visualize everything that he had expressed.

"I imagine that you kept me alive by magical means?" Harry inquired.

His Uncles merely nodded in response.

"Well, I think I'll start with my morning exercises now," Harry started while the elves dispersed from the side of his bed. "I think—"

The rest of what he was going to say was cut off when he stepped onto the floor. He learned quickly that not moving for a month a half was sure to give you a bad case of jelly-legs, and gave a little squeak, accordingly. Remus and Sirius both made sure he was alright before they shared a chuckle at their hapless nephew's misfortune.

"Yeah," he continued like nothing had happened, "some exercise will do me good. By the way, what's the date?"

"The morning of June the twenty-ninth," Remus answered with a yawn, while Sirius stifled one of his own. "I think that we'll go back to bed and then do our own exercise in a few hours."

"Alright," his nephew replied, "I'll see you guys later then," and with that he took off with some clothes to change into.

Later that day, after Remus and Sirius had discussed the topic at length, they decided to approach Harry about finally learning Occlumency. His secrets were going to have to be protected, and you never know who exactly is a master of Legilimency, as they could actually pick up stray thoughts without a wand and incantation. They didn't want people to know about Harry's elemental abilities, as well as the amount of power he actually had at his disposal. They would be useful tools to use against any enemies that rose against him. As he was finally done with his meditation, he could now put his mind back in order, and frankly, he was a little scatterbrained.

Harry agreed without question, as that was the next thing on his agenda, besides working on the obscure skills. He was looking forward to finally returning order to his mind and being able to keep his thoughts to himself. Sirius had even suggested learning the Animagus transformation as soon as possible, but they agreed that he shouldn't start until he had sufficient mental shields in place. They didn't want _anyone_ to know about that, as he would stay unregistered. Voldemort's spies in the Ministry could easily access the Animagus files and find out what he was, which would make it an ineffective tool. He wouldn't let anyone discover that he was learning it, and he wouldn't tell anyone afterward either.

Sirius began to teach Harry, on top of the emotion interpreting ability, the basics of Occlumency and also got him a book about it, so that if he wasn't able to get satifactory shields up before school this year, he would be able to keep working on it and finally get it to a workable level. He would also test Harry's skills whenever he wanted with the assistance of a newly improved and advanced Marauder's Map that he and Remus had been working on for the past two years. The map would only be usable to someone who knew about it, and the revealing process was fashioned after the Fidelius Charm. To anyone else, it would look like a spare piece of parchment, and had a permanent Notice-Me-Not charm on it that only worked on people who didn't know the "secret". They added new features to the map, such as a tracking function which let you just say someone's name in the castle, and the map would direct you to them. It also had a surveillance program so that you could monitor several rooms at once, checking for unusual activity. You could even pull up a picture of any person on the map by tapping their name with your wand. The map would prove to be a very useful thing to have on hand.

Using the map and the invisibility cloak, Harry could use one of the secret passageways in the castle to reach the wizarding village that was next to Hogwarts, where they would meet. They could even use one of the house elves if they really wanted to, but where's the fun in that? Sirius could then test him, and let him know if his abilities were a sufficient defense to keep the Animagus ability safe and out of enemy hands.

Harry's physical state was almost to the level that was required by Darkfang to remove the "darkness", too. The potions really helped him, even if the taste was just short of disgusting, and he was thankful that he had finally had some strokes of good fortune in his life, including being able to stop using the potion. He was happy to finally be able to have the darkness removed, as it truthfully disturbed him quite a bit.

The basics of Occlumency that Sirius was teaching him were similar to meditation, but instead of finding the magic, he was exploring his own mind. Reaching into his mind again was little short of a harrowing experience after his last trip, but he did the best he could. He improved every day, and by the end of the summer, he had finally put his mind back in order. When he made it to Hogwarts, he would begin to build his shields. He even had finished learning the emotion ability, and he thought that it would be a very useful tool to have. Sirius had brewed the potion for it, and he had anchored it by the middle of August.

We all undergo unpleasant experiences in our lives and, by far, Harry was no exception. The week before anchoring the emotion skill, he had gone to Gringotts to finally have the unwelcome visitor in his forehead dispelled. When he entered the bank, he had no idea how unpleasant the process of removal would be.

He entered the Room of Cleansing for at least the fourth time in his life, and gave the goblin priests an only slightly chipper hullo, as he knew of the gravity of the event that was about to unfold. He made his way over to the raised dais in the center of the room, next to which Darkfang was standing in wait for him.

With nothing more than a gruff greeting, Darkfang began the ceremony.

Harry was made to lie on top of the platform like he had so, it seemed, long ago. One goblin held his hair back for the duration of the ritual, given that it fell to the middle of his forehead. Darkfang put a mysterious substance on his scar, and it began with the chanting voices of about a dozen goblins.

The language of Gobbledegook was different to Harry and the only word that he could think of to describe it was old. It just sounded like it had been around for a lot longer than most would ever know, and the language seemed to like it that way; it had something all to its own to be classified as.

Throughout the ceremony, Harry felt like an immeasurable heat began just behind his eyes, and its tendrils reached out to touch the back of his scar. The lightest of touches was close to unbearable pain to him. As it went on, the pain grew; the burning sensation was steadily growing stronger, almost like they were trying to burn a tick out of his skin.

Eventually, he heard a shrill scream start to emanate from the scar, and a black liquid oozed out it into his equally black hair, spreading the smell of burning flesh. The scream grew louder with every passing moment, and soon the noise was so loud that he was tempted, against his better judgment, to scream as well. When it seemed that it couldn't get any louder, the scar seemed to actually explode, the skin felt like it was splaying to the sides of his forehead, and a putrid dark green cloud burst from his head, screeching with the voice from before.

Immediately, the goblins behind him threw up their hands in a forceful manner, and a net that seemed to be made out of pure energy ensnared the gaseous form, and it jerked and tried to escape from its bondage, screaming all the while.

Darkfang began another chant soon afterward, several more goblins joined in, and it created a noise that sounded similar to a song. It filled the room, finally ending the screaming for a time, until it seemed to have enough and finally it itself exploded with a final, blood-curdling shriek.

When it was finally finished, Harry let out a large sigh of relief. He rested for a few minutes and then finally got up, albeit shakily. When he was able to steady himself, he thanked the goblins profusely for their services, and they replied that he was extremely welcome which was accompanied by a goblin salute. Afterwards, they healed him up and sent him on his way, by which time he was feeling much better.

Now that the darkness was gone, he could finally bond obscure abilities to his magical core and then he would be able to use them, which would give him an edge for gaining and keeping allies. He was looking forward to using these new abilities, as he was always eager to discover something new.

* * *

As the days drew nearer to September the first, Harry's apprehension increased tenfold. The fact that he was ambushed and nearly mobbed at Diagon Alley while getting his school supplies wasn't part of it though. It wasn't even the prospect of actually going to school. The reason for his anxiety was because he had yet to find any real friends, at least his age. In his mind, his Uncles and the house elves didn't really count as friends; they were family. He had longed for at least one companion that was his own age for the longest time, and he knew that once he found someone that appreciated him for himself, he would have a true friend. He would try to avoid Boy-Who-Lived groupies in order to find stable companions for himself.

* * *

A/N:

I keep forgetting to say this, but if you see any spelling mistakes or errors in grammar, please don't hesitate to point it out.

Let me know what you think about Dumbledore, too.

5768 words this chapter, longest yet.

Good night,

Henry Baxendale


	8. Hogwarts Express

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 8 – Hogwarts Express

* * *

A/N:

Alright guys, I'm back. I had semester tests last week and was out of town for a hockey tournament for Memorial Day weekend, so I was busy and am finding time to do this hard to come by. I'm starting to think that I'm only going to be able to update once every (at least) two weeks now. School is really taking a turn for the worse (homework-wise) and I wouldn't feel very good if I gave you guys some crap chapter, as that would not only make me look bad, but that would disappoint you guys, which is something that I don't want to do. I hope this is for the best.

Replies to Reviews

To schnookums –

Your comment on the timeline has been duly noted. In hindsight, I now realize that it has been a bit jumpy. My original plan was for the block to be deadly by the original time that I said, but as I continued to write, I decided that two years would work better with what I wanted to do, and I just forgot that I initially said a year to a year and a half. Thank you for bringing up that discrepancy. I have corrected chapter three to accommodate the change, and if I said in chapter 6 that two years had passed, then that's not what I meant and I'm sorry for the confusion.

As for the jumpiness itself, I think that it's just a manifestation of my inexperience. I think that most of the confusion came from the updates on Dumbledore's status, which I included in inopportune spots, now that I think about it. Although I see that now, I don't think I'll be changing it any time soon (if only for the sake of not confusing myself) but I may get to it someday. I don't think I'll be jumping through time like that anymore, so those problems can be avoided altogether now.

To General Kenobi SIYE –

THANK YOU! That was such a great movie.

Disclaimer:

Did I forget to do one last chapter? Oh well! Ownership of the Harry Potter series was not suddenly given to me during that time period, as I would never give it back. (Who would?)

* * *

The sleeping form of eleven year old Harry Potter lay on his bed, oblivious to the turning world around him on September first, the first day of his Hogwarts enrollment. It was nine forty-one in the morning, and Harry had yet to pack. Fortunately, Toby had predicted this sort of behavior from the youth. He showed up momentarily in his room and was accompanied by the other four house elves. Being the eccentric troupe that they were, they had created a line of noise for him to wake up to. One had a resized bass drum strapped to their back, one with a snare, another with a miniature tuba, and the rest with trumpets. The chaos that they enjoyed so much woke him without fail, causing him to jolt out of bed, screaming something along the lines of, "OH MAI GOSH! WHAT TIME IS IT?" but it was drowned out by the resident din. His wand jumped into his hand, and he casted a silencing spell, but seeing as they didn't notice, he made an explosion erupt from his wand, which finally gained him their attention. "What time is it?" he asked again, now that they had calmed down. They began waving their arms and moving their mouths, but nothing came out, which prompted Harry to use a _Finite_, to remove the charm, and he asked them to start over.

"It is being nine forty five, Harry, sir," Spadey offered.

"Yous is needing to be packing your trunk," Joey added.

"Yous is going to King's Cross Station in half an hour!" Bobby exclaimed.

"We's be going now," Toby stated.

"Breakfast is on the table," Smoky finished.

With the familiar pop, intensified by several elves doing it simultaneously, they disappeared from the room as quickly as they came. As soon as they were gone, Harry let go of the chuckle he'd been holding for a while now. The elves never ceased to amuse him, even if he didn't entirely agree with their "enslavement". He had argued with them several times in regards to their services, but he had learned that they actually earned money for the work they enjoyed, as the Potter family had never fully agreed with the terms elf labor but treated them well, unlike several notable pureblood families.

It was true that Harry hadn't actually packed his stuff, but he had laid out most of his things out next to his trunk. The trunk he had gotten was a high-end one, even if it didn't look the part. He figured that what with his fame, he would try not to bring too much attention to himself. There were some questions that just didn't need to be asked. The trunk had several compartments, most unlocked by one key. For security, he had the key charmed to be repulsive to everyone but him, or people whose magical signature he had introduced to it. Even if it was misplaced or stolen, it would appear in his pocket within seconds. The main section held his clothes and school books and he had a couple of others, some for astronomy and potions supplies, and others with quills and parchment. The final compartment could only be opened by a password which only he and his Uncles knew. It contained his invisibility cloak, the improved Marauder's Map, his books on Occlumency, and his parent's journals. He had made it a point to bring at least his father's especially because of the Animagus notes, but even after learning about magic, his mother's notes became increasingly difficult to understand. With more schooling, he trusted that he would begin to understand it better.

When he had finished packing, it was only five to ten, so he decided that he would have plenty of time to enjoy himself at breakfast. He then apparated to the kitchens right in front of Remus and Sirius, who still were not completely used to his silent entrances to a room and were mildly shocked at his sudden appearance. Once they recovered, they acted as if nothing had happened, and passed out food. Each of them thought about what their lives would be like once Harry started going to Hogwarts, as they had not been separated for more than a few days since the day of Sirius' trial.

When it was finally ten fifteen, they all rose in silent agreement. They decided that they would apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and then take a taxi to King's Cross, while each of them would bring a trunk, with Harry's being the only real one. The taxi would take about fifteen minutes in the traffic of London, so Harry would have plenty of time to settle into the train before leaving at eleven a.m. sharp. They got their trunks and shrunk them to fit their pockets. Harry then grabbed Sirius at the elbow, and he Remus', in order to make it look like Harry wasn't doing it. They had chosen him as the designated apparater and didn't want anyone to know. His form was much more pleasant, and he didn't even have to get a license; one of the advantages of being an Adept. His own brand of Apparition wasn't able to be detected by the Ministry, and he had discovered that he could force it to make noise, so as not to draw suspicion or unwanted attention for the silence. With a practiced thought, they seemed to travel between dimensions, transcending time and space for just a moment which was enough to lift their spirits. The warmth of Harry's magic caressed them, and immediately fended off their nerves, effectively releasing most of their trepidation.

They arrived in a dark, inconspicuous corner of the Leaky Cauldron, thankful that people regularly apparated into the main floor of the shabby pub, which made them barely noticeable in the frequented crossroad for magical people. After greeting Tom, the friendly barkeeper and owner of the place, they exited the establishment, flagged a taxi, and directed the driver to take them to King's Cross. They merely sat in comfortable silence, each of them saving their goodbyes for the platform. When they finally reached the station, they thanked the man who drove them and left him a generous tip, but by the time he looked up from being shocked, they were gone from sight.

The train station was a marvelous thing to Harry, as he had never been to one before, but Sirius and Remus assured him that he hadn't seen anything yet. They made their way through the crowd and towards Platforms nine and ten, to the middle of them. Harry had been curious about how they would enter the famed Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, as his Uncles wouldn't tell him until they got there.

It was there that they met a middle aged couple, each looking to be in their late twenties to early thirties. They were just turning around when they got there, and they looked slightly sad. The man was almost six feet tall with short sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a strong-looking jaw. The woman was about a head shorter than her (assumed) husband and had wavy, almost bushy, brown hair, light freckles, a kind look about her, and dark brown eyes. What was really peculiar was that both of them had perfectly straight, very white teeth, which only left them to wonder at their occupation (or financial standing).

Seeing the wall that they had turned away from, Remus and Sirius had a good guess at what had just happened. "Hogwarts?" Remus asked knowingly.

"Yes," the woman replied.

The man spoke next and held out his hand to Remus, and his wife to Sirius. "We just sent our daughter through for her first year," he clarified. "I'm Daniel Granger and this is my wife, Emma."

"Sirius," Padfoot said.

"Remus," Moony continued.

"And this is Harry," they said together, and gestured to the boy between them.

Both his uncles then crouched and huddled themselves together in a big group hug, finally saying their goodbyes in silence. When they were done, they explained to Harry that you have to walk straight into the wall, which was an illusion. They then began conversing with the Grangers again, and Harry heard one little snippet of the conversation that he found completely hilarious.

"…of course we would never judge you; you're just different than us," he heard Mrs. Granger say.

"No, we're not—" Remus stuttered.

"No, it's alright," Mr. Granger interrupted. "We respect your lifestyle choice."

That was all he heard before he walked through the wall, which was a very new experience to him, and he left them to discuss his Uncles' sexual orientation. He was stifling his laughter all the way to the fabled platform, and it reached its peak as he stepped through the other side. It was suddenly silenced by the sight before him, though. In front of him was a bright red train, and it was one of the most magnificent things he had ever seen. Even _Hogwarts, A History_ couldn't have prepared him for this. The entirely metal train looked amazing with the scarlet paint, with the words, "Hogwarts Express" emblazoned on the front. Smoke billowed out of the dazzling locomotive, which floated all over the platform, obscuring all of the people that were milling around and causing their definition to slightly falter, though the effect made it even more beautiful in Harry's eyes. He approached the entrance to the train and spotted someone he thought he would immediately recognize (if parents were ever an example) and saw two things he immediately liked, though the circumstance was a bit unfortunate. He saw her moderately bushy hair, which was very similar to his own untamable locks, and the books that had scattered when she dropped her trunk.

Seeing her plight and being the gentleman that he was, he immediately approached her from the side, so as not to startle her. It seemed, though, that she was not expecting anyone to help her.

"Would you like some help with that?" Harry asked politely.

She immediately jumped a little, as he apparently still scared her. She turned slowly to look at the person who had offered to help her. He could see a look of apprehension on her face and didn't even need the emotion-sight for that, but he just smiled at her to ease the tension.

Her cheeks reddened a bit, and then whispered, "Yes, thank you," which was barely audible, but he was still able to hear it.

He then assisted her in the collection of her belongings, the last of which was a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. He smiled knowingly and offered her the book then his hand, and she took them both with a grateful look on her face. As soon as their hands touched, Harry felt a certain buzzing in his ears, like his core was trying to tell him something. He dismissed it for the moment, though.

"Harry Potter," he stated. Her eyes widened immediately in recognition, but he started speaking again. "I know that I'm in several books, but the author's weren't there, were they?"

"No, I suppose not," she answered.

"I didn't grow up with the fame, and I don't want it now," he said. "I'm just Harry, so none of that Boy-Who-Lived rubbish, okay?"

She nodded her head minutely, and then introduced herself. "Hermione Granger."

"Ah, I thought so," he voiced, and finished after a look. "I met your parents outside and you bear a striking resemblance to your mother." Most of her features came from her, but her hair was a slightly lighter shade of brown, and she retained the eyes, though her freckles were more prominent then Mrs. Granger's. He then picked up her trunk, which was quite heavy. Thankfully, all those years of exercise had given him hidden strength. His muscles were tightly woven, giving him the element of surprise if one picked a fight by size. "Shall we?" he asked rhetorically and gestured to the entrance to the train.

She lightly blushed again, an effect that he already decided that he liked. He followed her through the train until they reached a compartment that satisfied her, and he set her trunk up on the overhead containers. Suddenly, she realized something.

"Harry, where's your trunk?"

He laughed a soft laugh, and then reached into his pocket and unsheathed his wand at the same time. "Inquisitive, are we?" he asked, which reddened her cheeks yet again, and then altered his trunk. "_Engorgio_," he said, and the trunk became life-sized. With a "_Reducio_" it returned to its compact size and was deposited into his pocket again.

The amazed look on her face told all, showing that she had yet to discover all of the wonders of magic.

"Have you done any magic yet?" Harry asked.

(1) "I've tried a few spells at my home and they all worked," she said whilst shrugging.

"Show me something," Harry requested.

She thought for a few moments, and her eyes were drawn to his glasses. She then pointed her wand at them and spoke. "_Reparo_," she commanded, the tape on Harry's spectacles disappeared, and the snapped metal of the bridge grafted together. Harry took them off and looked at them, finally realizing that he had neglected to fix them all these years.

"Wow," he laughed. "I could have done that for two years now, and I completely forgot that they were broken." She laughed with him for a moment, and then he spoke again. "I couldn't help but notice all of your books," he started, but then frowned when she adopted a pained look. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's fine," she said, and then whispered, "I'm used to it."

"Well," he began anew, "I was going to say that I like books too, and one of your titles drew my attention." Her face lit up in that moment and she rejoined the conversation with renewed vigor.

"Oh? Which one was it?" she asked animatedly.

"_Hogwarts, A History_," he answered. "I've read it a few times, and it seems that I find something new every time I read it."

By now Hermione was very happy, and she decided that she may have found her first friend. They then began discussing the finer points of the book, and spouted information that they had gleaned from it, almost like a competition. The number of staircases, loos, and suits of armor was stated, and they each heard information that they had not remembered from each other's evaluation.

When the end of the conversation had been reached, Hermione adopted her apprehensive look once again and she bit her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn't want to mess this up, so she thought about it very thoroughly.

"Something on your mind?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, I'm just thinking of the best way to ask," she replied. "I just… do you want to be my friend?" she asked tentatively, silently awaiting the rejection she dreaded.

Instead he replied with an affirmative. "I'd love that," he said, and her face lit up once again. "Truthfully, you're my first," he said, face slightly downcast.

She looked at him and was astonished; she couldn't believe that he'd never had a friend before. "You're my first friend too," she echoed.

This time, it was his turn to look astonished. How could no one want to be her friend? He enjoyed her presence and they had similar interests, but then he realized that most people weren't like them. Not many people appreciated the written word nowadays.

"Well I'm glad that you're my first," he said. "I can tell that we'll be very good friends."

At some point during their talk they had taken seats opposite each other and the train had begun to move, but they didn't realize that other students were walking around and looking for seats until right after they cemented their status as each other's friend. It was not soon after the train had left the station that someone with a head of red hair and a long nose poked his head into their compartment. He had many freckles on his face and was tall for his age with a lanky frame.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"No," Harry said. "And you are?"

"Ron Weasley," he answered.

"Hermione Granger," Harry's new friend said.

"Harry Potter," the remaining boy finished. The atmosphere soon became one of awe, and using his ability, he could see that the ginger in front of him was a schemer. He had a spike of disdain when he looked at Hermione and a look of awe and slyness when he stared at Harry, which was an immediate turn-off for the black haired boy.

"Really?" Ron inquired with an interested tone.

"That was my name the last time I checked," Harry replied.

"Do you have it?" the ginger asked.

"Have what?" Harry countered.

"The scar!" the red-head exclaimed.

"Yes," he stated.

"Can I see it?" Ron pleaded.

Hermione had remained silent throughout this whole exchange, but at this point, she butted in. "Ron, he just wants to be Harry, so stop gawking at him!" Harry threw her a thankful look, which she replied to with a loyal smile before getting up with an, "Excuse me. I have to use the loo," on her way out.

"Wow," Ron said, "she's a bit long-winded. How about we just ditch her? She seems like a bossy know-it-all who doesn't know how to stay out of other people's business."

Ron was facing away from the door to the compartment, so he didn't see Hermione walking back the other way, since she had not known which direction the bathroom was. Harry was about to respond when he saw her standing in the doorway. She looked like she was about to cry, as if she expected him to agree with the ginger-haired boy. When she saw him looking at her, she immediately walked to her trunk to take it and leave, but Harry grabbed her wrist to keep her there for what he was about to say.

"No, Ron," he snarled, and the temperature rose significantly. Both his tone of voice and the temperature caused Ron to start sweating.

"What did you say to me?" he asked dubiously.

"I said no, Ron," he repeated, his voice still containing the amount of venom from before. "You're just a bully. You don't care about other people, and I bet you only came into this compartment to make friends with me; not Hermione."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Ron. I know for a fact that people would like to be on my good side because of my celebrity status. You're not even half the person Hermione is," Harry said, the last of which caused the girl next to him to beam, but still keep some of her sadness.

"But I'm going to be your best mate, Harry! That's how it's supposed to be!" he whined.

"I can make friends with whomever I wish, Ron. Who are you to choose for me?"

"But she's bossy and annoying, Harry!" Ron replied with anger, causing said girl's face to turn downcast.

"I think you'd best remember we're talking about my best friend here," he said coldly. Ron opened his mouth to reply with another haughty retort, but Harry cut him off. "Leave. Now. If you know what's good for you, you won't try anything like that again."

"What are you gonna do?" he said snidely.

Harry was waiting for this. "_Diffindo!_" he shouted, and the area of the cushion around Ron's head was split open, causing his mouth to open in shock. "Next time, your face will come off. Ten… nine…" Ron was already gone with his trunk, followed by a Tripping Jinx. "Well that's that."

One moment, Harry was fixing the slice in the seat, and the next, a bushy, brown missile-like object had tackled him into the corner of the room. Hermione was sobbing into his chest, thanking him profusely. Harry surprised himself when he didn't cringe on the contact; in fact, it brought a warm feeling to his heart. He hadn't thought that touching people other than family would be comfortable for him, but he felt that he already knew this girl.

"Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how much that meant to me."

Harry was dumbfounded. "What? Did you not expect me to defend you? I would never throw away my first friendship like that!"

"I just… everyone else I've tried being friends with has thrown me away," she replied sadly. "No one's ever done that for me before!"

"Like I said before, Hermione, you're a much better person than he is. I know that after only talking to you for about forty minutes! You can trust me. You know that, right?" She nodded an affirmative and clung to him tighter.

But then she pulled away, as she was suddenly afraid that she was being too touchy. "S-sorry," she stammered. "I don't know why I've been acting like this so suddenly."

"Hormones?" Harry asked cheekily then sighed. "If it makes you feel better, it's alright." She finally smiled again, and then hugged him tighter than before, taking full advantage of his offer. After about ten seconds of this, he couldn't breathe properly. "Uh, I can't really breathe right now, Hermione," he wheezed.

"Oh!" she shrieked and jumped back quickly. "Sorry."

"It's okay, just not so hard next time," he chuckled, and they laughed for while, until she sat down next to him.

It wasn't soon after Ron had left that two boys, who just _had_ to be related to him somehow, walked into the compartment, and the two first-years' conversation ceased. The two boys retained the ginger hair and the height, but their noses were less prominent and they looked exactly alike.

"Hiya," one said. "I'm Gred."

"I'm Forge," the other mimicked.

"Sorry about—"

"Our brother."

"Ron can be such a—"

"Git sometimes."

"We've wondered for a while now—"

"If he's been adopted."

Their creative way of getting a message across had the two firsties whipping their heads around like they were watching a professional tennis match in fast-forward. They were obviously Weasleys, no question about it. The four spoke for a while, and Harry now had two third year friends that knew how to make him laugh. The twins showed themselves to be innovative thinkers, and promised to include them on a prank sometime, which Harry readily agreed to, but Hermione looked as if she dreaded it. They soon left Harry and Hermione to their own devices with the claim that one of their friends had brought a tarantula that needed to be seen and used to mess with Ron.

The eleven year olds began talking about different things, including the pros and cons of each of the Houses. Neither particularly wanted to get into Slytherin, were impartial to Hufflepuff, but if given the choice, they wanted to get into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, neither of which they could decide on. The only preference they would have was the house the other got into. Their conversation was interrupted by another boy who poked his head into the compartment, causing their conversing to cease for the moment.

"Have you seen a toad?" he asked politely, though with a bit of a tremor. He had a round face, straight dirty blonde hair, and he was a tad short. "His name's Trevor," he added after a slightly awkward silence.

"Sorry, no," Hermione replied. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Neville Longbottom," he replied while shaking her hand, his own trembled a little.

Harry extended his own, and offered his name as well, which caused the other boy to drop his hand in surprise.

"Are you really?" he asked, cocking his head. He imagined that _the_ Harry Potter would be swamped by people and not as polite as he was. Realizing he was staring, he started stammering faster than before. "Sorry, I just didn't think that you'd be so polite. Usually fame messes with people's manners."

"Hey, just Harry, mate," Harry replied with a chuckle at the other boy's expression.

"Well then Harry, I'll just be off then. I have to find Trevor before something dreadful happens to him." And with that, he scurried out of the compartment.

Both Harry and Hermione lifted their eyebrows and looked at each other.

"He was a tad peculiar," Hermione voiced.

"I think he's just timid," Harry replied.

Before they could discuss the occurrence further, three more people stepped into the compartment. Two of them looked very similar. They were tall and blocky boys with thick bodies and large foreheads. Unbeknownst to each other, Harry and Hermione immediately compared them to Neanderthals. The third boy was significantly shorter than them, with pale blond hair and a pointed face. His eyes were a cold grey and held suppressed malice.

"So," he sneered, "I heard that Harry Potter is in this compartment."

Seeing no way out of it, Harry acknowledged the validity of the statement and stood up. "Who are you?" he queried.

The blond kid's sneer faltered for a second when he had to look up a little at Harry. The potions had restored his growth patterns quite nicely.

"The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. These are Crabbe and Goyle." He introduced himself like Harry should know him and pointed to each of the gorillas next to him with a thumb over the shoulder. Truthfully, he had heard of the Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle families from his Uncles, but he had never heard specifically of the boys in front of him.

"Am I supposed to know you?" he asked.

The boy looked slightly hurt at this. "We're purebloods. Everyone knows us!"

"Because there are so few to memorize, so few in fact that you've resorted to inbreeding…" Harry replied with a disgusted and disdainful tone. "And homosexuality won't really help your numbers, either," he added, barely keeping his face straight.

Draco immediately went red in the face before he hissed, "I'm NOT gay."

"Ooh," Harry said. "Looks like I hit a nerve, what do you think, Hermione?" Harry laughed and nudged her in the side with his elbow.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "hanging out only with people of the same sex can give off that sort of image…"

"We don't have to listen to you, Mudblood!" Draco interrupted with a screech. "These are the sort of people you need to stay away from, Potter."

The response to that one word was instantaneous. The temperature in the compartment rose to near unbearable levels, causing only the three boys in front of Harry to start sweating profusely. Harry's eyes held a raw fire few had seen before. "Call her that one more time," he challenged, his was voice throaty and growl-like.

Draco drew breath to speak again, but Harry had had enough. He whipped out his wand and shouted, "_Despulso!_" He hadn't actually perfected the charm yet, but he discovered that he could disguise a gust of air with the incantation.

After the three idiots had made their forced exit (who each had a shocked but slightly awed expression), he closed and locked the doors to the compartment, unaware of the lingering temperature change. It wasn't until Hermione touched his arm with her silent question that the heat dispersed.

"It's a vulgar and derogatory term for a muggleborn witch or wizard," he said. "It's used to say that they think you have 'dirty blood' and aren't worthy to use magic. I hate that term because it shows the bigotry of purebloods. They think they're so much better than everyone else because they come from an entirely magical family, but it's not the truth. On average, muggleborns are much better at magic and their studies than the purebloods, showing what it really means to be pureblood: it's just a stupid title that means nothing."

"Thanks for defending me again," she said. "This is going to take some getting used to."

He shrugged. "What are friends for?"

Hermione beamed at this and hugged him once more. She was more thankful than she thought he would ever know.

They just sat there in comfortable silence for a while, engaging in small conversations every once in a while. The silence seemed to do more for them than the talk, though. Just each other's presence was comforting, even after only about two hours of friendship. They were kindred spirits, even if they hadn't acknowledged it yet.

It was about halfway through the train ride, about one o'clock, when a plump lady driving a cart of snacks knocked on their door. Harry, still the gentleman, asked Hermione what she wanted and made sure to get some of it. Hermione, the dentist's child, did not eat so many of the sweets, but that didn't keep her from stashing some to have over an extended period of time, a clever move that they both enjoyed a good chuckle over.

More people came to gawk at him every once in a while, but Harry asked them to leave very soon if he started getting a bad vibe from them, or saw any cunning or ulterior motives shining through. Harry could see the brightness of Hermione's happiness throughout the whole ride, undoubtedly in her own world because she had gotten her first real friend. They both had a feeling that their newfound friendship would not be broken easily.

* * *

Harry and Hermione both woke with a start when the magically thrown voice of the conductor announced that they would be arriving at Hogsmeade station within the next ten minutes and advised that they all get into their school robes before arrival. They both pulled their black robes on over their formal clothes. The Hogwarts crest adorned the front and their knotted ties could be seen over the top of them, along with the collar. For the next ten minutes they just sat in silent contemplation, each of them eager and anxious for the new experience they were to have.

They could tell that they had arrived at the station because they could feel the train make a sudden halt, not to mention that the conductor announced that they had arrived at their destination. Harry shrunk Hermione's trunk as he had his own, so that they could avoid the inspection of the trunks that they knew would happen. It wasn't that they had anything to hide (at least in Hermione's case); they just didn't want their things tampered with.

They stepped out into the hallway to a torrent of students, and Harry didn't want to become separated, so he extended his arm with a flourish and a smirk to Hermione. She took it graciously with a small giggle at his demeanor, and they waded their way through the other students. Harry exuded an air of intense confidence, even if he didn't entirely feel that way, and people gave him some space. When they finally reached the doors, they heard a very loud voice over the noise of the rest of the people around them.

"Firs' years! Firs' years! This way!" shouted a very large man. He had long brown hair and an even longer, bushier beard that fell to about his mid-chest. Dark eyes rested underneath his prominent eyebrows which resembled little black beetles. He dressed in a large brown trench coat which had more than a couple pockets on it. Large heavy-duty boots finished his look, which was reminiscent of the largest homeless man they had ever seen.

"Do you suppose that he's part giant?" whispered Hermione.

"He certainly looks the part," Harry murmured back.

When all of the first-years had gathered in front of Hagrid (as the large man had introduced himself), he made sure that everyone was following him, and he led all of them to the shore of the Black Lake. The lake was long, wide, and placid, as if it had never been disturbed through its whole existence. It was black, true to its name, and the first stars of the night could be seen on its dark surface. They approached the dock, and it started swaying, which caused most of the students to give a startled noise and clutch for the nearest stable thing. Hermione chose Harry's arm, and gave a small squeak in the process. Once she had stabilized herself, she whispered her thanks, and he smiled to show that she was welcome.

"A'right, no more'n four teh one boat, yeh hear?" Hagrid shouted.

Harry and Hermione sauntered over to one of the boats and settled on the seats with Neville in tow. They were soon joined by one Seamus Finnegan, whose humorous personality and entertaining accent gave them a soft reprieve from their own anxiety. He was nice enough, and didn't stare at Harry when his identity was revealed, at least not enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

Not soon after they had gotten into their boat was it that Hagrid announced they were soon to be off. The boats freed themselves from the dock and started gliding across the lake without even a command it seemed. They all eagerly awaited the sights to be seen and looked when someone said that the boats didn't disturb the water at all. Sure enough, they could see not a single ripple on the surface of the lake. When they were near enough, Harry and Hermione stared in awe at the dark silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, the sanctuary of the Founders. They could see the several spires of the fortress, which were, in their opinion, the most impressive features. The most notable of them, they had learned, were the Astronomy Tower, Ravenclaw Tower, and Gryffindor Tower. It was an image of unprecedented beauty to them, and they would not soon forget this first sight of it.

They finally reached the end of the journey (which was too soon in some people's opinion) and stopped at the entrance of a large grotto that was burrowed into the hill that the castle was built on. The sand they stood on was quickly replaced with a stone walkway that gave way to steps. The steps themselves led to the large oaken doors that created one of the entrances to the castle itself.

It was with an enormous, hairy hand that the giant man reached up and knocked on the doors, creating a loud boom that echoed throughout the cave, calling out to the nerves of the soon-to-be students and doing nothing to relieve them.

* * *

A/N:

Sorry, I couldn't resist the "cliffhanger" like the book.

(1). I kind of wondered how this could have happened in the book, what with the underage laws, but I decided to keep it for nostalgic purposes.

5760 words in the chapter itself.

Sorry for the lateness,

Henry Baxendale

P.S.-

Should I change the rating to T? I don't really understand how the rating works, but I'm pretty sure that I won't be doing any lemons or mindless violence. Are sexual jokes "T-material" or M-rated?


	9. The Sorting Ceremony

The Only Thing He Ever Wanted

Chapter 9 – Sorting and the First Day

A/N:

If the Sorting Ceremony and Feast seem vaguely familiar, it's probably because I had my copy of _The Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone_ open to it for reference.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own anything, except for Adepts.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity to most of the students, the large doors swung out and open, revealing a stern-looking woman. She wore emerald-green robes and spectacles with her dark hair under a classic black witch's hat. Hagrid nodded to her and stepped inside as soon as she came out the door.

She got everyone's attention with some impressive streamers that came out of her wand. "Welcome to Hogwarts, First Years! My name is Professor McGonagall, and I will be your Transfiguration teacher during your stay here. The start-of-term feast is about to commence inside the Great Hall, and in a few moments, I will lead you inside to sit, but before you do just that, you all will be sorted.

"The Sorting Ceremony is very important because you will all be separated into one of the four houses, each of which has an impressive history and has produced countless exceptional wizards and witches. For those of you who do not know, the house names are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your house will be something of your family and each one has its own dormitory. There is also a contest between the houses, and the winning house is awarded the House Cup. Points are the basis for this contest; your triumphs will accumulate points for your house, but breaking the rules will lose you points.

"If you'll all wait a few more moments, we'll begin sorting you." At her command, they congregated at the base of the stairs in to prepare to enter the castle while she stepped back inside for a moment.

The overtones of chattering children slowly grew louder until the shriek of a several students in the back of the group caused all the rest to twist around and look to see what had caused the outburst.

Harry and Hermione (more so Harry) were one of the few that refrained from jumping when they heard the shrieks, so they calmly looked back at the spectacle. About a dozen ghosts had drifted through the walls, proving their intangibility. The floating specters were going to continue on to the Great Hall while continuing their discussion about some unruly person called Peeves, but seeing as they had been noticed by the shrieking students, they decided to introduce themselves to the First Years.

The first that introduced themselves was entirely silver (like all of them), but he wore ethereal robes that were much different than the garb of the others. "I am called the Fat Friar," he said. "I hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" The last comment was followed by the subdued snickers of sure-to-be-Slytherins. A couple more greeted them, like a certain Sir Nicholas, but a few unfriendly ones stayed back as mute phantoms, one of which used to be a burly fellow. He had shiny silver blood splotched all over his robes and an air of slight arrogance and distaste, as if he was being held against his will. The ghosts finally bade them goodbye and left the students to themselves in front of the doors again.

Draco was still steaming from his last encounter with Harry, but that didn't stop him from opening his very large mouth again. He approached Harry, and began talking to him once again.

"So, Potter," he said pompously, "have you reconsidered my offer yet?"

And so, the pathway to a very great prank opened itself to the prankster-in-training.

"Oh Merlin!" he yelled, getting everyone's attention in the process. "I already told you once, Malfoy! I don't want to be your gay lover! Stop trying to convert me!"

Draco went red in the face in embarrassment. "What are you going on about, Potter? I've already told you I'm not gay!"

"Get away from me, you fag!" Harry yelled and drew his wand.

Up until this point, all the other kids were laughing, and next to Harry, Hermione was going pink in the face from her laughs. But everyone went quiet when the doors opened and McGonagall reappeared.

With a, "Thank Merlin, an adult!" Harry ran up to McGonagall, and told her that the young Mr. Malfoy had been making perverse advances upon him, and her expression became one of severity. Only Harry could see the mirth in her eyes, though. She was tight with the Marauders, he had learned, and he was the next best thing.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said harshly, "I will not tolerate such behavior at Hogwarts! If I hear about this again, I will have to enforce punishment. You're lucky you haven't been sorted yet, else you would have had the year's first point deduction." The boy in question turned white at this rebuke and fell silent, not bothering to retort against the teacher.

With that, she led them into the castle and looked over her shoulder several times in response to the sniggers and chuckles that came from the children at Malfoy's expense. As they walked, they heard the sound of chattering coming from up ahead, which undoubtedly was coming from the Great Hall.

And great it was.

The first thing Harry noticed when coming into the Hall was that there were four oblong tables that stretched the length of said hall, which was a substantial distance. The tables, he assumed (as students wearing different colors were stationed at each table), were for each of the houses and they broke apart for a about a meter to a meter and a half for accessibility purposes. The resulting tables were each somewhere between six and ten meters long.

He could see the heads of every student turn and gaze at the incoming class. He could feel the emotions radiating off of them and he sensed that anticipation and curiosity were the most abundant. There were at least a thousand (if he were to guess) candles that floated in the empty space above. As he looked up to view more and more candles, he was met by a familiar sight. He looked past the vast wooden rafters and looked at the ceiling to see the abundance of stars reflected in the ceiling of the Great Hall. The moon, a sliver of silver, dropped in and out of sight with the wisps of clouds that glided across the sky. He looked down again and Hermione whispered with him that the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky; straight from _Hogwarts, A History_.

Professor McGonagall had somehow reached the front of the hall much faster than them and was now standing in front of a wooden podium on the side. When the last student had entered the hall, they all stood there, not knowing what to do next, so they waited and were oblivious to what was about to happen.

They paid no notice to the grubby old hat sitting on the three-legged stool in front of them. That is, until it started singing. The dingy brown pointed hat had developed a tear near the brim and had started spouting a song, which sounded amazing in spite of the lack of accompaniment. It sang about the qualities that each house represented, and it gave them something new to think about in regards to the house they hoped to get into. (1)

"When I say your name, please come forward, place the hat on your head, and sit on the stool to be sorted," she informed, and then got back to business. "Abbot, Hannah!" she called, and a pink-faced girl with pig-tails bounced up to the stool.

She gently placed the large hat on her head, and the brim fell down ever her eyes. After a few moments, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" She scampered off to the indicated table and the applause of the rightmost table welcomed her into their ranks.

"Bones, Susan!" McGonagall called out this time.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat yelled again, and Susan sat down next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The left-center table exploded this time, and the students happily admitted Terry.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy," followed Terry into Ravenclaw, but a certain, "Brown, Lavender," became the first Gryffindor of the class. The table on the far left of the hall erupted in applause for her, and the Weasley twins jumped up in unison to begin their tradition of shaking new Gryffindors' hand vigorously; all to their comical ends.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

From what he had heard from his uncles and also from the demeanor of the last student, Harry realized that Slytherin wasn't made up of very pleasant people.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin," became a Hufflepuff and joined the appropriate table.

It was then that Harry noticed that it sometimes took more than a moment for the hat to decide on house placement. Seamus Finnigan's sandy hair disappeared under the hat for almost a minute before the hat sent him to Gryffindor.

When Hermione's name was called, she extricated Harry's fingers from her own, which she had unconsciously grabbed and nearly broke. She walked nervously up to the hat and plunked it down on her head. The hat contemplated her placement for nearly two minutes before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry applauded her in addition to the Lions' table.

It wasn't long after Hermione's sorting that Neville was also put in Gryffindor, and the hat deliberated for the longest time yet for him, especially considering that he accidentally brought the hat with him to the table, and had to run back to the stool to put it back.

Draco Malfoy strutted up to the hat like the arrogant ponce that he was. He obviously got what he wanted, judging by his smirk, when the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" in disgust after barely touching his head.

Not many children were left now.

McGonagall went through the rest of the M's, the N's, and the P's (including two Indian twins who, surprisingly, were separated between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor). It was not long after a "Perks, Sally-Anne" that Harry was called up.

Harry could feel the response from the room immediately. All the eyes turned to him, some in surprise, others in admiration, and still others in curiosity. "_The _Harry Potter?" some murmured. As he walked slowly up to the stool, he could feel everyone's eyes follow him. "Did you see his scar?" others whispered. He nodded curtly at McGonagall, who returned it, and promptly placed the age-old hat upon his head. As darkness enveloped him, he found Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes among the throng, and he smiled at her reassuringly; his green ones were obscured after that.

As soon as his vision dimmed, he felt another presence in his mind. After a few moments, he heard a voice mumbling. "Ah, yes, very interesting," it said. "I see the beginnings of Occlumency shields." Needless to say, Harry was startled, until he realized what it must have been.

"Are you the Sorting Hat?" He asked tentatively.

"Why yes, of course," the entity replied. "I'm nearly finished here, so do you have any preferences to a House?"

"Uh, we get a choice?" Harry replied. He'd never heard of students getting a choice of their house before.

"Not really, but I take your feelings and reasons for your answer into account when I sort you," it said back.

"Well, I wouldn't have had a preference between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," he answered, "but since my friend Hermione is in Gryffindor, I would prefer that house."

"Hmm," the hat deliberated. "You would be good in any of the houses, even Slytherin. You have unwavering loyalty to those you care about, you are studious, almost as much as Miss Granger, and you have an astounding amount of courage, which I don't think you've completely discovered yet. You are well balanced in mind and body, but your choice has made mine.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted, and it was the loudest yet.

Harry set the hat back down on the stool and whispered his thanks to it. He then walked confidently to the Gryffindor table amidst the throng of voices and applause, and after shaking each of the Weasley twin's hands (who were shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!") and being thoroughly jostled, he sat down next to Hermione.

He soon learned that Fred and George had another brother, besides Ron. He was a Sixth Year Prefect with glasses like Harry, and slightly lighter than his brothers', curly red hair. Harry noticed that he gave Harry a much more enthusiastic handshake than any other of the Gryffindor First Years, which made him come off as a bit pompous, but Harry decided that it could be chalked up to his ambitious nature, which, in and of itself, was not a bad thing at all.

It was not until the hall had calmed down that Harry got his first chance to really look at the Staff Table, if only for a moment. He could see Hagrid easily, and he was sitting next to a tiny teacher, who had to be Professor Flitwick, according to what he'd learned so far. He swept his gaze across the table and met a pair of twinkling blue eyes that could only belong to Dumbledore. There seemed to be a controlled madness behind his azure orbs, and the old man gave him an imperceptible nod and a smile, both of which he returned in kind.

Now that there were three people left, Dean Thomas was sent to Gryffindor. Lisa Turpin was next and went to Ravenclaw. Then it was the insufferable red head's turn. Harry expected him to go to Slytherin, even wanted him to, but that was not what happened. The hat took about a half a minute, but in the end, "GRYFFINDOR!" was the decision. Harry just stared with raised eyebrows in disbelief. He seemed to be the only one, besides Hermione, that had expected otherwise and was accordingly shocked. He just silently told himself that Ron had better watch out, or else his health might come to be a point of concern.

Ron beamed all the way to the Gryffindor table, until he saw Harry, and then "Zabini, Blaise," was called up and concluded the Sorting Ceremony by going to Slytherin.

After this, Dumbledore rose to his feet and smiled. He then addressed the students.

"Welcome all!" he said. "Welcome to this new year at Hogwarts! Prior to the start of a wonderful feast, I will attempt to expand your vocabularies!" At this, several student's groans could be heard. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"That is all."

The silver-bearded man sat back down to the enthusiastic applause of most of the students. Harry just sat with a knowing smile. _Dumbledore is so predictable,_ he thought to himself with a shake of his head.

When Harry looked down at the table again, he saw that all of the plates, platters, dishes, and pitchers had all magically filled themselves without any semblance of change. It was at this point that the House Ghosts joined them, each swooping down from the ceiling towards their table and hovering above the students.

Harry remembered seeing the Gryffindor ghost in the back of the group of specters they had seen before the sorting and had introduced himself, and suddenly recalled that this was the ghost that Sirius and Remus had told him about. He just hadn't made the connection before.

"You're Nearly Headless Nick, aren't you?" he asked.

The ghost gave a huff and rearranged his ruffs. "I really don't understand why everyone insists on calling me that," he harrumphed. "My name is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington."

Seamus jumped in at this point. "_Nearly _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?"

The ghost gave a sigh, clearly not enjoying how the conversation was going. "Like _this_," he said irritably. He grabbed his left ear and pulled it down. His whole head lurched to the side and sat on an obtuse angle, revealing all (what used to be) the pale sinewy muscles in his neck. He seemed immensely satisfied with the reactions from the children, and deftly reattached his head, which finally ended most of the students' cringing and groaning. "So, new Gryffindors! I hope that you'll be good assets for the house championship this year. The Slytherins have gotten the cup for the last six years, and I don't really feel like listening to the Bloody Baron anymore; he's starting to get intolerable. He happens to be the Slytherin ghost, by the way."

He motioned towards the Slytherin table, and Harry recognized the ghost from before. He still looked the same with the silver blood and arrogant and otherwise bland disposition. He sat with a blank look and a gaunt face, and no one wise would think to disturb him.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus.

"I never thought to ask," Nearly Headless Nick responded with an empty look.

Everyone ate as much as they wanted, and the remainder of the food disappeared from the plates. Moments later, desserts appeared in front of them. Ice cream, pies, doughnuts, Jell-O, puddings, and any other thing you could think of was there.

Everyone took their favorites, and then they began talking again.

"I'm half," Seamus informed everyone. "Me dad's a muggle, me mum was a witch, though she didn't tell him until after they were married. He was fairly shocked."

Everyone laughed at this.

Harry chose to remain silent about his own background, but decided to help Neville get out of his shell. "You got anything interesting to say, Neville?"

"Well, my gran brought me up, but the family thought I was a squib for the longest time," he said. "My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to force some magic out of me every chance he got – he pushed me into a lake once, and I almost drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Once, he decided to dangle me over a balcony and accidentally dropped me, but I bounced into the road next to our house. Everyone was so happy for me, and Uncle Algie bought me my toad."

Harry then looked up at the Staff Table once again. Hagrid was drinking what appeared to be pudding and McGonagall was talking to Dumbledore. He shifted his gaze and looked again, scanning auras and emotions. Hagrid was content, McGonagall and Dumbledore were amused, and Flitwick was giddy (presumably because of the wine he was drinking). Those four exuded light colors, none purely white, but none the same exact hue. He passed his gaze over the rest of the table, and centered on two peculiar subjects. One of them had a hooked nose, black hair, and sallow skin. This could only be Severus Snape. His aura looked to be a grayish color, and he had slightly simmering anger and hidden sadness lying underneath the surface. What was even more peculiar was the man next to him. He wore a big purple turban and was speaking intently with Snape. Harry could see a darkness emanating from the turban, and it startled and puzzled him all at once. The rest of the man, however, bore a look of jitteriness and a lifeless color. This was very confusing. Snape suddenly looked past the man next to him and directly into Harry's eyes. He immediately felt a delicate brush of some external force in the back of his mind, and he reflexively stopped thinking. The anger inside Snape suddenly rose to the surface and he looked away. Harry turned his gaze back to the man with the turban, and he felt a slight tickle in his scar. What nobody knew, however, was that he was extremely ticklish, so he started laughing, but covered it up with a cough, and kept doing so. Hermione turned to him with a shocked expression on her face and started patting his back.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked worriedly.

As soon as he looked away, the tickling stopped and he could breathe again. "Yeah," he gasped. "I think something just went down the wrong pipe." He then turned to Percy. "Who's that teacher next to Snape?" he asked.

"Oh, you know about Snape already, do you?"

"Doesn't everyone?" he countered.

"True enough," the curly-haired ginger replied. "That's professor Quirrell," he finally answered. "He's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, a position that everyone knows Snape wants."

Harry stared at him for a time, but the tickling feeling never came back.

After a time, the desserts too disappeared, and Dumbledore once again rose to his feet and addressed the throng.

"Ahem," he coughed. "I just have a few more words for you this evening, now that our bellies are full and our thirsts have been quenched.

"First years, I will only tell you once that the Forbidden Forest is indeed forbidden, thus the name. If we wanted you to go into it, we would call it the Forest Of All Things Good And Pleasant With No Bad Things There Such As Acromantulas And Other Foul Beasts. As it is _not_ called that, you obviously should know not to go there. Some of us would do well to remember such things." He then swept his gaze over to the Gryffindor table, eyes lingering on a certain two twins who were known for mischief and destruction.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has also asked me to remind you that there is no magic to be used in the halls, and that a list of banned items has been posted on his office door and all the House Bulletin Boards for reference.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of this term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch.

"And finally, I will tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds everyone who does not wish to die a painful death."

That seemed to be enough food for thought for the occupants of the hall, and they all began chatting about why in the world that particular room would be off-limits.

"And now, before bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore with fervor. The other teachers began holding back grimaces.

Dumbledore produced a large golden streamer from his wand with a deft flick, and the ribbon shaped itself into a paragraph of words.

"Pick your favorite tune, and let us begin," he said enthusiastically.

The whole of the students then began jumbling all of their words together, none singing the same tune, and they all ended at different times. By the time everyone else had ended, Fred and George were only halfway through the song, as they had chosen a very slow and off-key rendition of _Ode to Joy _as the theme for the song. Dumbledore seemed delighted, though, and conducted the second half with enthusiasm. When they finally finished, the silver-bearded man clapped the loudest of anyone in the hall.

"Ah, music," he said wistfully. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, it is officially bedtime. Off you go!"

Percy then rounded up all of the Gryffindor First Years and led them through the loud crowds out of the Great Hall and up a marble staircase that was very near the large doors to the Hall. Most of the First Years swayed on their feet because of all the food they had eaten, and they all felt tired from the long and stressful day. A couple of muggleborns started when they heard the paintings and portraits whispering on the walls, and Harry noted that they were led through a couple of doors that could only be reached through sliding panels and by lifting tapestries.

Suddenly, a suit of armor jumped out of an alcove ahead of them and started taunting them. Percy just sighed and rolled his eyes. He turned around and reassured the students that the armor wouldn't harm them, as it was actually a ghost that was animating it.

"Peeves!" he shouted. "Leave the poor armor alone!"

The sound of a very loud and rude raspberry answered his demand.

"Do you really want the Bloody Baron to hear about this?"

The armor stiffened at this, and then a tremor ran through it, until it rattled to the floor like a pile of bones. A little, translucent man with dark, mischievous eyes appeared and floated above the fallen suit of mail and plates. "Ooooooooh! Ickle Firsties! What fun!" he said, eyes wide, and mouth wider in a mischievous smirk.

He then flew over their heads and barreled out of the hallway, but not before smacking a few of them on the head.

"Be careful about the poltergeist, Peeves," Percy informed them. "He's no help if you're running late for class. The Baron seems to be the only one that can control him these days, not even prefects can stop him, so be sure to mention the Bloody Baron if you're hard-pressed for time." After Percy reset the suit of armor, they walked for a few more minutes, until they reached their destination. "Here we are."

At the end of the corridor they were following was a portrait of a very plump lady in a pink dress.

"Password?" she said distractedly.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied. "Correct," she answered, and her canvass swung forward to reveal a round hole. They all scrambled through the hole into what was called the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry agreed with his Uncles on the fact that the living room in the Manor was very similar to the Common Room.

As soon as he saw the squashy armchairs, Harry couldn't help but sit down and lean back. He was exhausted from the day and the combined effect from the chair and the heat from the fireplace did wonders for him. He decided that he would almost rather sleep here than in the four-poster bed that he knew was waiting in the First Year boys' dormitory.

Percy informed them which direction the boys' and girls' rooms were, as the staircase that went up to them split after it hit the landing, which had a large wall-sized window that overlooked the grounds. The girls' were on the left and the boys' were on the right. He informed them that their rooms were up at the top of the winding staircases that were beyond the top of the boys' and girls' stairs and with that, he departed, leaving them all to do whatever they wished, which he knew would not be much, since it was late and they were tired beyond belief.

Hermione took the chair next to Harry's and immediately agreed with him; they were too comfortable to be real, but they were. The other boys and girls were so tired that they didn't even notice that Harry and Hermione didn't accompany them up the staircases.

"So," Harry began, "is this all that you thought it'd be?"

"Yes!" she replied enthusiastically. "Everything and more! What about you?"

"The grandeur of Hogwarts was slightly ruined for me," he explained. "I live with my Uncles, and they both attended Hogwarts together. They explained pretty much everything to me; like the secret places." Hermione's eyes narrowed at this. "Don't worry, I'll show you a couple some time," he offered, and she smacked him playfully on the arm.

"That's not what meant at all!" she admonished, and they laughed.

After a time, Harry "fixed" Hermione's trunk, and with an, "_Engorgio_," her trunk returned to its normal size.

"I would offer to carry that up to your room for you," he said while scratching the back of his neck, "but the stairs would keep me from going up there."

"Right," she said back.

"But, I will teach you a useful spell that is relatively easy," he informed. He then taught her the _Locomotor _spell, which would be followed by the name of the target object, which in this case would be trunk. He then told her that the trunk would follow her while levitating if the spell was done correctly. She performed it perfectly the first time, and Harry's heart swelled with pride. Maybe he could be a teacher or something similar to that someday. Or maybe Hermione was just naturally good at magic.

She then ascended the stairs to go to her dormitory. When he was sure she was gone, Harry took a second look around to make sure that no one else was in the Common Room. He concentrated on his magic and extended it towards the flames in the fireplace. A small ball of fire procured itself from the rest of the blaze and floated to his palm. It danced in his hand, and he messed around with it for a while, just thinking things over and contemplating the day's events.

He enjoyed Hermione's presence just as much as he liked talking to her, and that was amazing to him. He never thought that he would be able to connect with someone on the level that he had with Hermione on the first day of exposure. He decided that if anyone tried to hurt her, they'd be in a world of hurt themselves.

He next pondered Draco Malfoy. His air of disdain and arrogance were his most potent qualities, and that wasn't really saying anything. If the things he had heard about Draco's father, Lucius, were true, then the son lacked the grace and fortitude of the father by a long shot. He always seemed to have something to say, and none of it was anything intelligent. He also was a stuck-up rich kid, and that alone was bad enough.

Ron Weasley was bad news. He had insulted Hermione from the get-go, and Harry would not put up with it. If anyone wanted to be friends with him, they had to be friends with Hermione too, because she would always come first and he wasn't going to abandon her any time soon. The kid really had an attitude problem and whether he liked it or not, he would soon learn that Harry was not someone to be trifled with. Harry didn't care if it was the easy way or the hard way, as either one would get the point across.

Harry then began changing the colors of the flames with both hands, and unbeknownst to him, Hermione had come back down the stairs and had been watching for a while. She had realized that in her excitement, she had forgotten to say good night to Harry, and had returned downstairs bid him so. But when she had gotten halfway down the stairs, she had stopped, mesmerized, and watched him play with the fire. Her eyes widened in shock when she realized that he wasn't even using a wand. Her mind, for once, drew a blank for an explanation, but she, also for once, decided to leave it for tomorrow. She was tired, he was tired, and she had no idea how much control Harry had over it, so startling him would not be the best idea. She silently crept back up the stairs and into bed, formulating scenarios for the confrontation she by now was dying to have.

Harry, oblivious to Hermione's observations, just simply sat for a while longer until he finally decided to join his year-mates upstairs and went to bed. He entered the circular dorm-room silently, found his bed, and set up his trunk. Each bed was sideways against the wall and had a window that was about a meter long in the wall next to the bed. He mounted the improved version of the Marauder's Map on the wall for when he was not using it. Thankfully, the expertly placed charms would prevent anyone from seeing it unless he wanted them to. He even set up a hook on the wall next to it so that he could hang the Invisibility Cloak, and the same charms had been applied to the hook, which in turn would apply the same effects to whatever was hanging from the hook. Still in silence, he changed into his pajamas, hopped into the four-poster bed, and fell asleep soon after working on his Shields.

* * *

A/N:

(1). I decided not to include the song, as I find it to be a little redundant, as it seems like many other stories that either create an AU from year one onwards or go back in time to first year have the song.

This chapter is a tad shorter than normal… but it actually felt natural to end where it did. I hope you guys don't feel gypped.

5325 words in the chapter.

Happy February,

Henry Baxendale


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